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The Deep Well

written by: Robin McNamara



I go to the well everyday,
Sometimes drawing water,
Other days none.

The well is as old as the oak tree,
Upon the farmed land under,
Rained skies.

Built by my Grandfather’s Father,
During a time of drought,
The well gave hope.

It’s stood through storms,
And through many wars,
Quenching soldiers thirst.

A savior in times of fire,
A resting stop for travelers,
And their weary horses.

When I draw water,
The farm is nourished.
My children’s children -

Will use the deep well.

Robin McNamara

Robin McNamara

Living in Waterford City, formerly lived in Copenhagen. Former journalist with Insight Magazine, Dublin. Likes dogs, football, coffee. Enjoys observing and watching nature change for inspiration in writing.
Robin McNamara

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