Droplets

Let's not waste them
she chides, gathering drops of time
in her worn jean pockets.

...a trace of quiet terror,
but take no heed. And
from their slow passing
calloused fingers carefully pry

She salvages and saves,
hoarding them until she
is almost soaked to her skin.

Yet, it is in her thirst
that she turns to find
them stagnant, sour to the taste.
A brief dirty dampness that
makes her wish for a new rain

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

you are going to be very popular on here if you keep this standard up...great poetry with so few well chosen words you paint a vivid picture

[Hannah]

Thanks for another incredibly kind review! :)