DSometimes the cupboard is bare.
Sometimes the tissue is gone.
Sometimes the tank has no gas.
Sometimes the milk is done.
How does one take the end of supply?
Does despair find respite in a good cry?
When the dry well just mocks us
as it breaches our trust,
can we let go of attachments
to wishes
and musts?

0 thoughts on “D is for Dry”


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