Well Of Solitude

Soft rose thorns
I caressed thee with tenderness
That paint your stem
With my inner colour
No tears flow from my glass eyes
Hallow as they are
Just like my wooden limbs
Paralysed in expectancy

There it was this
Light of dawn that reveals
The lightness of being
Blind as I am
I sensed it hitting
The cold water around my body
Floating as I do in a well of solitude
Encircled by old wet stones
With moth for bedding
And a heavy metal door
Sealed somewhere above
Locked by rust and dust
At least here,
I have all the tears I care for

by Dan Littauer

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