Well Well Well
written by: Linda Crowley
and so every day to the well I come
dragging my bucket as small as my thumb.
‘tis only a drop I need from below
to water the garden where my stories grow
The well is quite full
fed by the streams
that run off the mountains
of all peoples’ dreams.
I lower my bucket
but to my despair
the nectar’s pushed back
like leaves through the air.
I lift up my bucket
the level soon rises.
I am not fond of such cruel surprises.
Down up, up down, and to my chagrin nary a drop as my patience runs thin.
And so, not today but maybe tomorrow
I’ll nourish a tale full of joy and or sorrow
My garden is thirsty
and I will not fail
to visit my well
and fill up my pail.
Linda writes in the shadows of the Appalachian Mountains, having retired there from a life of nursing and travel. She is a member of the Summers County Writers Group. Her days are spent breathing in fresh mountain air, listening to the river and creating magical tales.
Latest posts by Linda Crowley (see all)
- Well Well Well - June 8, 2023
