In realms unseen, where angels dwell,
There exists a tale that words can’t quell.
Where heaven weaves its wistful grace,
Teardrops descend with gentle embrace.
From ethereal heights, they softly fall,
A symphony of sorrow, erased in a call.
They traverse the celestial skies,
Emerging as stars, whispering lullabies.
Each teardrop holds a story untold,
A glimpse of longing, a love enfolded.
They dance with rainbows, fleeting as time,
Cascading blessings in a rhythm sublime.
Bathed in moonlight, they shimmer and gleam,
A celestial language, deciphered in dreams.
They mirror our sorrows, our deepest concerns,
Yet bring solace, a balm that forever yearns.
For in those tears, a tapestry we find,
Of joys, of triumphs, all intertwined.
They speak of resilience, of souls intertwined,
Of growth borne through darkness, divine and kind.
So cherish the teardrops from heaven’s abode,
For within them, a tale of grace bestowed.
In moments of sorrow, let them cleanse your soul,
As tears heal and nurture, making you whole.
MARYANN BOSAH 