Droplet
The
splat tapping
of
the long drip
inside
the ceiling
reminds
me of summer
spent
at the Bryn
tidying
up and painting
before
the students moved in
the
towering clock
of
the overgrown church
the
walk round the graveyard
the
unmissable porch
we
had to lie in
the
droplet of water which fell
giving
us its blessing
the
solitary tear
you
wore on your cheek
when
I'd say something
tough
or insensitive
runs
like a rivulet through me
falling
for years
like
love to the ground
every
drop a part of me is missing
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