The cut crystal jar that was always filled
With a never-ending supply of mints,
You know, those red and white disc-shaped candies...
It was empty now, and I picked it up
Knowing the crowds of pickers had no clue
Of its real value, to me anyway.
The candy was gone, as gone as she was.
Standing in the midst of it all, I cried
Remembering the taste of peppermint
But only tasting the salt from my tears.
Caren E. Salas