I've never tasted the water,
but I know it must be sweet.
The others drink of it so greedily,
but there is no water for me.
I searched for it when I was young,
endlessly seeking but never finding,
until the search became unbearable.
Others have it, I've watched them.
Some savor every drop. I envy their bliss.
Others pour it carelessly on the ground
after only one swallow.
I despise their profligacy.
Spring is gone now.
Summer is almost over.
Autumn is fast approaching,
but still I have hope.
I yearn for the touch of the rain on my face,
the splash of the wavelets about my ankles.
Ahead I see it,
a bubbling spring of pure, cool water.
I move toward it, not too quickly,
my energy is almost spent.
I'm almost there.
I can already taste the liquid sweetness on my tongue.
I reach to scoop it into my hand,
but bring back only sand.
It was just a mirage.
There is no water for me.
Copyright 1998 by Kathleen Mc Pugh, all rights reserved