Draft for poem six:

poem six

Final iteration:

When you want it to come,
it most often just sits and stares,
and you settle to describe it
instead of just sitting there yourself
in abject observation,
but still, there’s no reward
when Niagara is at your gates
and all you feel is a stray droplet or two,
just enough to tease your thirst
while you drag your bare soles
across the desert,
and you pray that it’s not
an aimless journey,
that your call will be answered
and the dream will come,
but sometimes you don’t arrive anywhere
and the only thing you see
is a mirage
and it’s all you can do
to wait and listen.


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