I am dry.
Lost in the desert
Of my imagination
I trudge toward the shimmering
Thoughts that dance before me
Only to find bare sand.
The well.
The never-dry fount
That pours forth upon request
Has been erased
From the map.
It is gone.
Always
I had but to begin
The journey and the spring
Welling deep inside
Poured forth the clear
Pure words,
But not today.
Today the sand stretches
As far as I can see
In every direction.
Tantalizing with
Mirages.
Yet I trudge on;
Putting one foot
In front of the other
Until the page
Is no longer
blank.
4 comments:
That's exactly how I feel about Idaho.
:)
ah how descriptive!!
Lovely as ever...
Happy belated Papa's Day Pan!
Some days the well is deep, but it is a long ways to the water.
Post a Comment