The First Tear

I stopped listening

To what she was saying

When the first tear

Glistened

At the corners

Of her eyes.

Nothing she ever said

Spoke to me as powerfully

As that tear.

She was not a woman

Given to easy emotion.

She spoke softly

In fluid

Easy tones

Using thoughtful language

Carefully chosen

And measured.

I listened to her

The way

I gave my full attention

To Vivaldi.

As she spoke

I made mental notes

Of her every observation

Intending to return

The same consideration

Of language craft.

“Pass the salt, please”

From her

Was an aria.

I preferred her common talk

To the speeches of masters.

And that makes my point

In marvelous simplicity…

… I stopped listening

To what she was saying

When the first tear

Glistened

At the corners

Of her eyes.

    (~~ monarch ~~)