Parched

The hippo and the crocodile, rarely bosom buddies Tighter squeeze together as the shrinking water muddies Some fall by the wayside as that arid river bed Leads those that do not falter to a bitter head to head Jostling for position in the sun’s relentless gaze The water hole is barely damp for days and days; and days And one by one their eyelids close on this their final stand Even as the clouds portend new rain to quench the land The final crocodile takes a final snorted breath The final hippo perseveres with all that he has left But soon he too succumbs for the sake of just one sip And so he fails to comprehend that steady, drip... drip... drip