The Spell of Unwept Tears

Over the world the clouds, silent wanderers,
Have never known the restorative rain.
They drift lightly, an eternal white smile,
Without the weight, or grace, of sudden release.
They know neither bitter taste, nor crystal descent.
Yet a shadow, a yearning far off,
An echo of droplets, a secret need.
A longing for what has never been,
Of ancient tears, of forever’s now.
A crying withheld, a breath suspended,
The wish for a green yet unseen.