She sits by the well where she dutifully draws
The water to quench the thirst
That her future will have.
Yet no future is coming for her
But she sits there day in and day out
Refilling her pitcher with fresh water
Just in case
Today’s the day.
But it never is.
She dumps the last bucket full
Onto the desert ground
She laughs to herself.
The bucket hits the bottom of an empty well.
Her sandals leave footprints in the sand
Which are quickly hidden when a small wind
Blows across where she used to pace.
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