Saline – a poem by Tanya
A drop of moisture falls gently from the edge, soundlessly onto the softness below.
Slowly it glides along the contours, leaving a part of itself behind.
A trail glistening with life, that slowly fades and then is gone.
A vague memory…
The journey is pointless, suicidal… unnecessary…
and yet another drop falls to travel in its wake.
You look upon these and you wonder… Why?….
To what purpose do they come?….. Always there on the edge.
Struggling to stay… and yet wanting… wanting for something.
And so they fall… and fall… and fall.
©2000 Tanya Cropper