A Mermaid's Tears

A Mermaids Tears
Bertie Williams

Along the shore I walked with Dave,
and noted that with every wave,
the tide brought in a piece of glass,
pale white in shade or green as grass.
Some were of an amber hue,
some were yellow, some were blue.
All were polished smooth and clean,
no rough edges could be seen.

“What are they, Dave,” I asked my love,
“broken bottles tossed from above,
where folks with nothing else to do
dropped their items, one or two?”
“Oh, no, my dear,” my lover said
and holding hands he slowly lead
me to shelter of the rocks;
took off his shoes, removed his socks..

He waded out onto the strand,
returned while holding in his hand
three chunks of colored glass for me,
which I examined carefully.
“These are the tears that Mermaids cry.
You see that they solidify,
when on the strand so near to air
they cannot last as liquid there.”

“Mermaid, tears?  They look to be
like plain old glass smoothed out by sea.”
I saw him smile and nod his head,
“they cry when one of them is dead.
The tears then float on toward the shore
where they must stay forevermore.
A reminder that we all must pass
and life’s a treasure that does not last.”

I smiled and laid the pieces down,
we strolled on toward the edge of town.
I looked back once and thought I saw
a set of flippers near the shore.
I smiled and held to Dave’s hand tight,
for we must love with all our might;
against that day when tide and time
release us from fair Earth’s design.