basin

There was a girl once, beautiful and sad and silly. She was a girl who loved
too easily, and whose heart was easily broken. She was so weary of getting a
broken heart that she bought a basin and swore to herself that every time
she would cry that she would cry into it, and when the basin was full
enough, she would drown herself in a pool of her own tears. She kept the
basin in her room, and cried rather often, wet hot drops glazing the inside
of the vessel as they slipped off her face.

But as often as she cried, she never made a satisfactory pool of water to
drown herself in. Time would steal away the salty water and dry the bowl.
Time, she felt, had robbed her of her poetic ending. But time also gave her
a wiser perspective, and made her a little less silly, and eventually a lot
less sad. And a basin of dried tears, instead of being a poetic end, became
a poetic beginning.

At least, I hope so.

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brian welby poore
http://b-w-p.diaryland.com
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