April 14, 2004 Harold Tor

A dewdrop

A tiny dewdrop is born
In the cradle of a pedal
Of a crimson rose
In a country garden.

Wafts of sweetness
Sing to its birth:
“A gift from the heavens,
A star on earth.”

The dewdrop smiles back
At the first rays of dawn
That shine upon his beauty
That sparkles in the morn.

From his wondrous birth
Came his wondrous love
That he showers on all
With the most magnificent colours.

Alas, no one seems
To care about his dream.
“Am I worthy of love?”
He asks, as he turns and he turns.

The lonely dewdrop
Soon loses his rays
As he grows smaller
Tired and grey.

Eventually the Sun
Pities the lovelorn dewdrop
By bringing him up
To the heavens again.

One can still hear
His song lingers
In the brief moment after
A fresh spring rain

“Am I worthy of love?”

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