Though oblong, they stand silent
Upon an ashen face.
A pool of drowned troubles
Looking for a hollow place.

A gleaming desert highway
Like a ribbon racing thin,
Consummated in condensation,
Two drops fall off the chin.

Then two more will follow
Down the ridge and mountain slope,
While a hand will come to comfort
With a reassuring hope.

“My child, it’s all right now,”
She hears her mama say.
“Come let your mama hold you
And she’ll wipe those tears away.”

It could be just the gentle breeze
Or thoughts of childhood dreams,
That takes me back to yesteryear
Which thoughts of Mama brings.

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