the tears of charlie

his life unheard, now shared
for ears perked, open to hear his tales,
his truth gathered in his breast years long:
these now tease words from his trusting lips,
lips that had long awaited someone  to enter the garden of his heart,
roam there, lay on the lea, picnic beneath his bleeding tree.

charlie's tears leaked quietly down as joyous drops,
assured that he was heard through once buried words,
and in this friend-padded embrace of the revelations of his heart,
he was free to be the story-teller of his life.