Had we more space than now, maybe a small room, or a tiny apartment where we might share our love. Just the two of us. Somewhere near water. Maybe a well from which we could draw to drink, and sometimes bathe, perhaps wash our feet, even clean our clothes. Always to be used with care, never let to waste- every drop drawn with purpose, and maybe to grant a smile.
If we could forage, hunt, or even, better, farm our food with seeds grown and granted by god from seasons before. We’d have a pet, a cat to stalk the mice, chase them from our field. We might call her Reyn. And we would want a cow to milk. Call her Abda. The bell about her neck would call us to wherever she was, and maybe keep the unwanted at bay. Reyn would always arrive in time to sample Abda’s sweet milk.
And if, by then, we’ve provided food for ourselves, and somehow some extra share, could we hope by then that no one knows harm, or must eat from the streets, live as did, homeless, scorned, snubbed, shoved to the side, humbled by peers for what remained. Left over, lost, when others had less?
Come, be with us, plying ever through whatever’s ahead, pushing on, beyond what’s left in the way. Feel still, fortunate, and definitely blessed
-dp-
torn from another scrap.
11-10-25
(30)204/230
Well shared 💐