to get that water first
for she had sensed his thirst
a little bowl in her dry hand
she crossed all that land, but
the water that emerged in that bowl
would never quench his parched soul
it seeped away from the bowl so worn
from the years of scrubbing that it had borne
2 comments:
I dunno wat truly 2 make of dis poem, as in I've an idea, a fairly gud one, unless I'm way off d mk :P all I can say is I love d imagery :)rustic :)
I like this, So much emotion in so few words.
Vey naice I'like.
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