When Poets Cry

When people cry they feel relief Their pain is washed away Tears can comfort the sting of grief Or a feeling of dismay A poet's tears are different indeed For they form into a word An ever growing poetic seed A feeling that can't be heard The paper becomes the poet's sleeve As they wipe their tears away Their words will form an intricate weave Deciding what they'll say Each teardrop has a life of its own As it trickles down their cheek It stains the paper, their seeds are sown Their tears begin to speak So listen close when poets cry Though it barely makes a sound You'll hear a soft and tender sigh When all their words are found