Cry Baby

Photo By: Saul Leiter

She cried sometimes.

Some days more than others,

Some days not at all.

At times her tears were thunderous;

They passed through wells miles deep

So passionately, so violently,  

The belly of the earth rumbled

And did a heated dance.

But more often than not,

They were soft,

They were gentle,

So hushed, in fact,

They silently rest beside her,

So as not to disturb her,

As she grappled with

Lions,

And

climbed mountains,

And

chased fireflies,  

And

Rummaged through picture books,

And

Marveled at future books.

She cried in colors,

Beautiful colors.

Soft palettes of

Pastel pink and  

Dusted red.

She cried,

Because

She was feeling glum,

Because

She was feeling angry,

Because

She was feeling a laughter tickling her tummy,

Because

Words simply couldn't suffice the

Movement that was rattling inside her,

That was shaking her bones,

And hugging her blood,

And tugging on

Her putty-like heart.