The tears of a phoenix heal the wounds, but can they mean something?
She would burn with a quiet, dancing flame
and would rise like a mighty cloud.
Her tears sought by one and all
from the ever impatient crowd.
With every glide and flap and flight,
she brought peace, else unfound.
A sand grain for each wound she healed
would have formed a seamless ground.
No one knew just what went by
in the depths of those teary eyes.
Her extra tears brought a larger crowd
just as she gazed past the skies.
She finally burnt with a screeching flame,
dreaming through her final ordeal.
The crowds kept waiting but she never rose back
because the Phoenix’s tears were real.