THE COLLECTOR
I was there,
when into this world;
you erupted.
Exploding from your dark silence.
your first wail a relief;
to all those involved.
Silently I swept in;
collecting.
Again, I was there when;
the rough gravel caused
an abrasion to your knee.
I once again swept in;
collecting.
Those first wondrous years;
not but a thimble could I fill.
With my collections from you.
Alas, into your troublesome teens,
you wandered.
Your first love that broke your heart.
and still;
I gathered.
During this troubling time,
buckets I could have filled.
Always there,
quietly behind the scenes.
Not one to call attention,
I waited;
knowing there would be more
gatherings.
On the day your true soul-mate,
inquired of a union;
I was there,
to collect once again.
This collection however;
was different from the rest.
This collection shimmered silvery;
filled with joy.
I felt my burden of the bitter pain filled
years of collecting lightened.
I cherished these,
as I would;
the collection I took,
at the bringing forth of
your own giver.
Soon, I would move on;
to be the collector,
for this new life.
For I was and always will be there,
as the collector of tears.
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