Mandy Woodmansy - Bowl of tears

The boy was beautiful, funny, caring, loving,
Wild, reckless, adventurous,
Spurned, outcast.
He whispered, “I wish you were my mother.”
Numbed then dead.
The mother clung to me, knowing, I knew, the treasure that was lost.
It felt like the saddest thing in the world.
Tears will dry.
Only the salt remains.