by amica paige
Rain, rain come what may
My dry spell—do moisten away
Let it pour—thy waterfall
And spring forth—thy cleansing rain
That, on them, the sun will glisten
Morning dew for my well.
I won't submerge, but immerse instead
in thy deep, dark, cold waters
I'll not drown, but swim up instead
upward bound onto the surface
The water sparkles at the surface
Precious jewels for my well.