Orchard of Tears

I see you there.
Hiding ‘neath the guise of smiles,
encrusted in worthless baubles
and empty oaths, whispered by spurrious youth
below a long forgotten moon.
I see you there.
The shiny taste of new adventure
stales, leaving an embittered tongue
to stumble alone in dark chambers filled
with a bed, far too small for dreaming.
I see you there.
Galleries of pictures and memories,
drops of life¬† — measuring not nearly
a full cup — in a time when
even a sea could not suffice nor should.
I see you there.
Handfuls of water, one by one, quench
the ebbing flames, carelessly steaming
away on the cool spring breeze.
I see you there.
Proper motions crumble under the monstrous
weight of distance, passion mounted on
feathered feet in a Jovian play — all but
restrained in a brief encounter, lasting
seconds longer than forever or tomorrow’s
latest hour — leaving the players dizzy and blind.
I see you there.
Enticing daydreams undermine
stolid resolve with encroaching repitition,
wedging tresspassing thoughts into the
foundation that seemed invincible only a
short time ago, when it was first built.
I see you there.
Huddling your stretched limbs in
resigned indecision.  Uniquely shattered
within the carefully preserved shell.
I see you there.
… and I cry for you
— an orchard of tears.

— Eric William Hinton
4/5/92

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Poetry and writings