My Ode To Running Water

By Megan

To the Tune of “Lord, Plant My Feet on Higher Ground”

My throat, my throat!
So dry and parched!
No drink to coat
its walls of starch!

Oh, how I thirst
for a clean, crisp draught
of water nursed
from a faucet shaft.

To even see
that silver run
would strengthen me,
though I’d drunk none.

Thy running stream,
thy damp delight!
Thee my one dream,
thy laughter light!

I’d go to debt
to shower in
thy shower wet
to wet my skin.

The grease and grime
of many moons
thy drips sublime
in rainbow tunes

would wash away!
Away the stains!
Alas, my pay
can’t thee obtain!

Thy running stream,
thy damp delight
thee my one dream,
thy fountain bright!

Oh, running water,
die I may!
My life does totter
on this day.

Deluge of peace
and purity
oh cease to cease!
Give surety

that I shall rush
and thee shall spurt—
together gush;
together squirt!

Sea water, fresh,
spring water, bath—
care’th naught my flesh
what kind it hath.

I’m on my knees,
withholding spout!
Oh, tell me please,
without a doubt

if ever I
wilt thy trickle hear,
apart from cries
and my own tears!

Thy running stream,
thy damp delight,
thee my one dream
of liquid light!

But, oh, farewell—
alas, you failed
my thirst to quell,
OH FAUCET HAILED!