The well is dry.

No water will flow,

tears cannot cry

or fill it.

There is no washing.

There is no bathing.

There is no flushing.

The well is dry.

Dig deep, my love,

dig into your mother.

You’ve gone and used her up.

No machine can tap her resources.

Thump and thump,

night and day,

digging, digging deep.

Only sand,

only coliche,

not even tears,

the well is dry.

2015 copyright by Katie Pifer http://www.witchpetals.wordpress.com

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