His Tears

My father is tough-minded, a man
who doesn’t shed his tears easily.

Sometimes, there are tears
like dewdrops trembling in his laughter.

Last time he waved good-bye to his brother
with his head turned away, eyes misty.

Now, he leans on the couch staring
at the door, still, only tears tumbling down.

I search for the last words in his tears
as they fall slowly, and slowly

until they stop and dry up.

Version 2

My father is a man who
doesn’t shed his tears easily.

Sometimes, there are dewdrops
glittering in his laughter.

Last time he waved good-bye to his
brother, a sudden mist blocked his sight.

Now, he leans back in his armchair
still, only tears tumbling down.

I look for his last words in them
as they fall slowly, and slowly

until they stop and dry up.

V3

My father is tough-minded.

Sometimes, there are dewdrops
trembling in his hearty laughter.

Last time he waved good-bye to his
brother with his head turned away,

hand frozen in the air.

Now, he leans back in his armchair
still, only teardrops oozing from his eyes.

I look for his last words in them
as they fall slowly, and slowly

until they stop and dry up.