Poem

I did not regret that July,
Although there was a grief here then
That held its spell in the form
Of a shaggy haired prince
And the disasters he left
In his wake.

That summer
It would not rain.
The clouds were distant
And stingy.

Perhaps the ground
Was calling for tears.
Perhaps that explained it.

I did not regret that July
Even after I was alone.
Because I know that the ground
Needed what was mine.
And I freely gave.
Knowing then,
Later,
The ground would give back.

-EEG