Tears of Rain

Sometimes I pretend my tears are raindrops,
flowing freely down my face and stopping at my lips.
There they seep into its roots,
letting the nutrients set in.
A flower blooms there,
delicate as a rose,
yet strong as a wildflower.
This flower is called a smile,
it's beautiful, really.
It can bloom so quickly,
and fade away as fast.
It's colourless at the edges,
but as you search deeper,
the core has a subtle intensity swirling around,
in shades of pallete pinks and reds.
Have you ever seen a smile?
I have, seeing one makes you feel euphoric.
Seeing a real one that is,
the mimicing kind only gives you a slight blast of exhileration,
before you realize it's a fake.
Real smiles are hard to come by, so it seems.
For a real one only blooms,
after it's tasted the rain.

© 2012