Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing


on 22/06/2015

I am a well,
A fountain of life,
But my water is gone,
My water is lost.
I am a well,
Through sunlight and strife,
Now shrivelled and dry,
A desperate ghost.

I have a friend,
A grown-up but child,
Who brings me a bucket
And urges me to sip.
I have a friend.
With childlike hope,
My friend gives me water,
But water I can’t keep.

Yes, I am parched,
But drink I can not.
I need my well working,
I need my own spring.
Yes, I am parched,
But I need to create.
My fountain is dying,
Like a sick king.

My friend keeps coming,
And showers my walls,
Chanting of hope,
Letting time pass.
My friend keeps coming,
Relentless and kind,
My friend knows my spring
Its water will find.



3 responses to “Well

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