A young lad covered in sod walked by me this evening. <br />Skinny and frail as if he hadn't eaten anything. <br />Covered in dirt, <br />tears upon his shirt, <br />and feet bare upon the stone. <br />He started to fall, <br />leaned up against a crippled wall, <br />and let out a painful moan. <br />With tears in his eyes, he began to cry, but still continued to stand. <br />He held his place, <br />wiped his face, <br />and looked at his dirty hand. <br />He wiped his hands on his shirt, <br />removing the dirt, <br />and again began to walk. <br />Shifting through the sand at his feet, <br />standing tall in the blistering heat, <br />and pulled out a smoothed rock. <br />all the rain had gone away, <br />and all the grass replaced with clay, <br />and sand at the bottom of the well. <br />at the edge of the well the boy let out a silent prayer, <br />looking into its depths with a longing silent stare, <br />let the stone fall. <br />For all the sorrow and mope, <br />this boy had not given up hope, <br />no matter the stress or strain. <br />His knees gave out, <br />To tired to shout, <br />But fell to the ground in pain. <br />The light in his eyes faded away, <br />as his body lay upon the smoldering clay, <br />clouds began to form. <br />He could not last, <br />Though the drought had passed, <br />And rain came in a forgiving storm. <br />And washed away his memories.<br /><br />Poet of the River<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/don-t-give-up-hope-thought-sad/
