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I dare not summon them,
Though so special to me.
At times I think I've shed enough,
To fill a vast dark sea.
At times they spill out on my pillow,
In the hours right before dawn.
Maybe regret or retrospect,
Times with a loved one now gone.
They are so warm and so salty,
As they make their way, down my cheeks.
Yet they comfort me when I'm sad or lonely,
Give me solace, when I'm so weak.
Should old thoughts, or new words pierce my heart,
I seek a silent refuge in haste.
And let my trail of tears,
Then start.
They are always so close to me,
Whether by night, or day.
They seem to know, exact the right time.
To wash my grief away.
Father time can't deny or lessen,
Their intimacy as I count off the years.
These dear friends of mine, oh how sublime,
That made up, "my trail of tears."
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