Jo Bien Poet Classicism

A River Called Hope

there once was a river, a river called Hope
when it rained in the desert, the Hope would flow
but too much sun has left the soil parched
now the banks are dry, the Hope has dried up

the critters are dying, no where for them to drink
plants are shriveling as they turn brown and shrink
still the sun beats down on this arid basin
no chances of rain on what once was an oasis

there once was a river, a river called Hope
when it rained in the desert, the Hope would flow
if I immersed my soul, it would be cleansed
but the Hope doesn't flow, over or within

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