The Dry Sea

Tears, how I call it with it’s flow
taking journeys that make us glow.
The sun came out but it was low
that was how they died turning slow.

The river dried so did the sea
till I had no more, so I flee.
I left the sight of sting and bee
still yellow heart if you agree.

When I came here, judgement had left,
It’s pebbles boiled under the sun.
Here they lay with ice and warmth,
holding pain and the truth of the eyes.

Ruddapoet [TRCP]