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Oh, ancient pump,
How long have you renounced your living waters?
There is nothing but the rusty creak and clink
Of your crimson body
Over, and over,
Which denies the parched of your loving moisture.

Though the sunrise
Twiters and chirps
To the newfound dawn,

There is no solace for those long gone.
©2007-2009 ~PenintheStone
:iconpeninthestone:

Author's Comments

This is something I wrote after an early-morning walk through the graveyard behind my house.

I think I like the idea more than the result, so it's not really finished.

But, maybe I'll make it longer. Or a series of poems.

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March 28, 2007
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