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Hints

An inkling;
a drip
a single eraser trail marking
what could have been
at one point
some very important words.

Pink polka,
left behind
secret message
telling tales of juice
long ago spilled, but
ah yes,
never forgotten.

Hint of green stalk
bursting forth from
dirty, rocky, grungy swath of land
Empty before, sadly lacking excitement
Soon to be populated
By beautiful blooms.

Lone tear
casually drips off the end
of your nose
Silent, gentle reminder
That not all is right.
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