“Water, Water”

Her father’s attention part of love’s spell,
A small girl pulsed with inspiration’s burst.
“Listen, Dad, I’ve got a story to tell!”
And began her tale through lips tautly pursed.
“Man rode his donkey through deserts so cursed.
They plodded along through barren nescience.
‘Water, water,’ begged the poor donkey’s thirst.
The rider could spy no liquefacients,
So he counseled instead, ‘Patience, Donkey, patience.’
Farther and farther they traveled along…”
Her repetition persisted awhile,
Dwaddling through her most glorious song.
The expansive desert promised exile.
Her father adopted his worn-out smile
And relaxed into a folded-arms stance.
“The donkey begged for water each mile,
But man will test a draft beast’s complaisance.
Parched himself, he managed, ‘Patience, Donkey, patience.'”
Her tale wound along as minutes ticked by,
With donkey demanding water rightly,
“Patience, Donkey, patience” the only reply,
As the rider gripped the strong reins tightly,
And the sun beat down upon them brightly.
Faster and faster rose the girl’s cadence,
Excitement in her voice lilted slightly.
She threw him a look, head tilted askance.
Mile after mile, the same “Patience, Donkey, patience.”
When she had burned through every breath she had,
Her scritch-scratch voice remnant could barely send,
“I appreciate you listening, Dad.
You long ago proved yourself my best friend.
While I have no desire to offend,
I’ve prattled beyond absurd adjacence.
Isn’t this joke ever going to end?”
Mischievous flickers danced in his glance
‘Ere came his reply: “Patience, Donkey, patience.”
Editor: Seth Corry









