The Well

Just a little poem I jotted down a few nights ago....

Women came to gather by it

And take what they would

But the well is dry...

Children tossed pebbles

And hoped for a splash,

But the well is dry.

And the builders then came to

Find remedy for naught

But the well is dry.

They knew the shaft deep,

The walls sturdy and sound,

But the well is dry.

Then townsmen and country folk

Came to shout down the dark,

“How dare you run dry?  We need your life blood!”

With curses and stones they made their angst known.

But the well remained dry.

The walls torn by anger, the shouts falling in air

Gave tremble to waters flowing East to dwell there.

©2008 ALT