The Tear Collector
When one is sad
they look for some reasons to be glad.
So I make them.
I craft the wings,
of dragonflies and the birds that sing
I mold flowers,
petals that soak up April showers.
With emerald stems
I make the gift,
drop-shaped pendant, sealed with a kiss.
More than a gem.
Tears I collect
when dried they have a better effect:
Because sadness repurposed is bliss,
Which then I send.
A teardrop form
That is the sign of my own support.
Means to an end.
Dry tears of pain
Look for my repurposed aid
...No, look again.
Oh, see? Under us.
A dragonfly in the bottlebrush.
...Feel better, friend?
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