a poem, of a lyrical nature…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

houses near mountain
Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

and the water runs dry
when the water is gone
and the roots dry crack
when the rain is gone
and the wells wide gasp
when the sea is gone
bones pluck will lie
when the river runs stop
damns ditched run dry
when the last blood drop
mirrors fade paint bend
pick past last crop
we are at our end.

notes… just one of those gifted to me by the muse, I wrote it as is, from scratch, it made me think musically, lyrically.

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