Mary E-A. K. Remaniak Poetry

Crimson streams run down the hillside
Where once happy children played.
Green grass grew and sunshine smiled,
Now thorny roses grow and skies are grey.
The old well up top has burst its seams
And the warmth within swollen to the brim
Rushes down the mossy stone....
So old and crumbling with loss.
Those who see it mock the pain
The water-girl feels at the loss of control.
Only an old well...what could one expect
From something so obviously torn up and old?
But she saw it as golden future and hope
That has now turned to dust with age.
Every figure passing by stops in amazement...
Looks and stares...
Its walls shut out emotions that brought sorrow
And sealed up the spring of tears.
The boundaries gone, the dust returns
And scarlet waters flow without end.
From what once was life and hope and joy...
Now brings only pain and tears.

Poet: Mary E-A. K. Remaniak