She emptied her pockets,
Hoping that some feeling would fall right on out.
Maybe not love soaring like rockets,
But something tangible with potential to sprout.
With hands quite bare,
And a well certainly dry,
Hope wasn’t enough for her this time around.
Her limit was the sky.
Hope’s well had, alas, nothing to propound.
So she said prayer after prayer.
Maybe this prayer will be it.
Feelings so soon to hit.
Shake her very soul,
Remind her how to live.