Drought

Drought She is not amazed but softly petrified By pieces of scattered, scantily unknown bits of filaments. She seems wooed into what can't possibly be; The job of growing up. Pleading, grasping for the next unknown leap towards safety; Security to hold on to. Change the attitude: Desperately squinting through fogged windows of tomorrows. Where? Where is she? Here, here I say.....I am here; just faded and worn. How invalid, how tedious, take a chance, though. What the hell can be lost; only a last remainder. Don't flinch for purposes important. I'm greedy for the next day. is there any pleasure, Is there really any care? The grey drought has to end someday. Can I shower my faith, my beliefs, my strong will, My wondrous optimism? Ah, then the rainbow glows, yet unseen, yet..... Oh but I can imagine where it will end; For a beginning has already blossomed. The itching for hope that never knew tomorrow, That never knew me, Will someday ease with timidity.