T7

7. My grief is a small price to pay for love I have known.

Tender. Like the tips of the swan's wings. Like the strength of a lioness. Like the wind, ever going, steadfast. Like the gaze of the sphinx on the Nile.

Turbulent. Like the sadness that hides in the pensive. Like the span before the storm becomes the calm. Like the tide, ever flowing, mercurial. Like the flare of the gleam on the sun.

Transient. Like the flicker of a flame. Like the final fallen leaf. Like the day, ever elapsing, evanescent. Like the ripple that grows from the stone.

7. My tears are a small price to pay for the smiles I've been shown.