The Well

You are the source
The well, at which I drink
Not often enough
Often thirsty
Sometimes parched
Until my head throbs
and my throat burns
Then I remember
Your water
Your cool, pure
life-giving water
Freely given
No catch; no trick
With a smile
and a welcome
No grudge
at my absence
Just bemusement
that knowing its existence
its purpose; its reason
I have forgotten
to remain
or looked the other way
But now I drink
long, urgent gulps
Feel the healing
Relief; release
Then slow, lingering sips
Savouring and revelling
Filled to the brim
and overflowing
So now I stay
beside that pool
Never moving away
So I can drink every day