when the well runs dry

you see it in the dying man's
eyes.
some semblance of hope,
believing this is just temporary.
i'll be out of here
in no time, back to work.

you see in your parents eyes.
the love for their children, they'll
be alright.

give them time. given them schooling.
money.

it was in my mother's eyes as she stared
out the bare
kitchen window on a Friday night.

he'll be home soon.
he'll be home soon.

it was in our eyes on Christmas eve.

it's in the eyes of those in church.
those in the unemployment line.

the drug addict in rehab.

in the beggars' eyes on the corner
as the next car arrives.

it's in the eyes of single people,
clicking
endlessly online.

the waitress pouring coffee at three
in the morning.

the janitor mopping halls.

you see it in the eyes of men
coming out of a coal mine, their blue
eyes surrounded
by black.

everyone hoping there is a better life.

there's hope every where you
look.

it's in the eyes of husbands and wives,
hoping
that somehow love
will return, just wait, pray,
be patient, it will arrive.

hope.
the elixir that keeps us going
until that well
runs dry.