Clean Water

So I have started my walk, but only just,

Propelling myself forward without any fuss,

When I pass the street sweeper, the road he is cleaning,

But he wants my water, there can be no other meaning,

As our eyes meet and he points at my side,

My bottle glaring at him, which it’s too late to hide,

The thought occurs to me to break into a sprint,

Instead I pause, maybe he will get the hint,

But there is no way of refusing if I don’t want to offend,

So I hand over the drink of pure mineral blend,

He gives it back after drinking a bit,

But I can’t be sure he hasn’t added some spit,

So I toss the bottle, left to feel thirsty and dry,

Determined that next time, I will continue walking by.

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One Response to Clean Water

  1. Beattie Gellert says:

    I love this one. It made me laugh. Mum

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