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.
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