He looks at her with drownéd eyes,
faced with the sharp reality
of her arid gaze,
and stands silent, accusing, hurt,
bitter in his sorrow.
Though her heart pities him,
her desert eyes are still
and his look fails to move her.
Yet her face speaks volumes,
can't he hear?

Did you honestly expect tears from me?
her dry eyes ask in gentle reproach.
You, who knew me best,
who saw the floods and the torrents
drown the flame -
you should know better.
Remember, whisper those sapless orbs,
remember...
these wells have long run dry.

11/29/2001

Posted on 09/19/2002
Copyright © 2024 Amanda J Cobb