12

A tear rolls down my smooth cheek,
Balances on the tip of my slightly pointed chin,
And splashes onto a colorfully decorated pillow.
It bounces off the cotton fabric,
Lands on the loosely fastened floorboard,
And sinks to the very first floor.
Beneath me I hear a drip.
The tear lands on Mother's precious vase.
It swirls in the neck of the bottle,
Round and round and round.
It keeps on until a pluck! tells me it hit end.
I look around me,
It's midnight,
I already know.
Back to sleep.