A Tear
A tear was rolling down Melinda's cheek.
She simply stood and did not wipe it off.
She stared right at us, but she did not speak.
A tear was rolling down Melinda's cheek.
Dressed always shabbily was she, and meek,
the one at whom the children loved to scoff.
A tear was rolling down Melinda's cheek.
She simply stood and did not wipe it off.
For Brian Strand's Contest:
A 1 to 8 Line Poem, any form. . . .
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