UNGRAVED

The emptying was torture Like a queen bee on the back porch Easy to avoid, ignore No need to go out those french doors Another route to necessity Eliminating the need of more ...then came the scrapping You showed me the epidermis Of my well I was certain my water was sweet Til I saw it Shock shook the core of my soul Then you went deeper You broke the foundation Of my cistern...broken pottery Strewn on the open ground The wide open ground My eyes caught a shadow A shape of doubt melded With elements of matter Grief, pressurized grief Made a form Walking under my well of HOPE Breathing sorrow upon vision Whispering...I'm aggrieved ...........does anyone care Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-28-2024