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Desert Dweller

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.

The End


Copyright 1998 by Kathleen Mc Pugh, all rights reserved

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