The difference

Craving for a drop, he hassled

just a single little one that he wished of.

Deserted, handful of rough grits it felt. 

He sought out everywhere,

with an empty jar, 

vulnerable and rusted. 

Like how a thirsty child seeks his mother’s breast,

slothful, expecting a heavy rain.

And there was a thing about “the sun”

that was eyeing him constantly, 

while he was trying to escape.

Mesmerizing it was, equally bright,

even when it set.