Pubescent and angst-filled; a bad combination,
Invariably, ending in tears.
I still cry, though, I’ve not been pubescent,
For quite a number of years.
There are other reasons I find for crying,
Like a movie called, ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’.
And then there are tears of a mother,
And, sometimes, those of a wife.
They’re healing, cathartic and pleasant,
When the emotions just overflow.
Without the use of lachrymal gland,
My feelings wouldn’t know where to go.
I’d bottle them up and stop it with cork,
Start another, till I had a great load.
Then, one day, like champagne just popped,
I know that they would explode.
Now, some men don’t cry very often,
I’m sure there are women as well,
But, I can’t stop it, when something I see,
Causes my heart to swell.
It’s like someone has squeezed it, when my heart has been filled,
And massaged it to ensure that it feels,
And when, least expected, sometimes embarrassing
Moments, it bursts and empties the well.
I don’t cry to be maudlin or depressive.
In fact – and this feels a bit sappy-
I’m much more inclined to fill up inside
When I feel blessed and just so damn happy.
They’re salty and quite full of flavour,
I’ve tested this on my lip.
Tongue tipped to lip as tears flow down my face,
Reaching my mouth drop by drip.
One of my kids is like this,
And, sometimes chooses to see
‘Titanic’, or some other movie
That turns the tears on like sea.
Is this a familial trait? I don’t think,
‘Cos the rest are not thus inclined.
In fact, my eldest just laughs at the habit
And thinks we’re both out of our minds.
She laughed at ‘Les Mis’ and thought it ok;
‘Could have been shorter without all those songs’.
Meanwhile, the crying daughter and I,
Snuffled the whole film long.
The fountain of tears can be blessing
Or, curse, if for something that’s sad,
But I find it relief to expel happiness and grief
In tears. So what? My bad!