Changes

Tickle me.

Tickle me teardrop,

as you drop slowly from my eye.

You make a puddle on my nose,

and I know the reason why.

Your tickle turns to itching,

that can bother the strongest of souls.

The itching becomes a burning,

that sizzles into my woes.

All I have to do is touch you,

to feel that puddle no more.

But doing so rips me from,

a tear that loved to pour.

Lying stomach to back.

Back to stomach.

Still, the little tear just laid.

A secret tear, just one so dear.

Only time when it will fade.