When the well runs dry 

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They looked up to the sky
And back down to the well. 
They’d never seen its depth. 
They looked back up, and stopped at the tree branches. 
It was too depressing. 
The whispers grew to crowds
Even the men came round and sighed
The Gogos had never seen the water 
So low, 
They summoned the Headman come. 
His furrowed forehead mirrored 
The muddy floors 
They all looked expectantly in his direction 
He was no rainmaker and this was trouble in the making. 
They recalled the Oracle bent back and long dismissed 
Years of rain and ageing rendered her used. 
Her hut sat in solace on the mountains base
Pride rooted them to the ground
But the children ran in the direction of their stares 
They stood in the place that fortune had forgotten 
She was long gone. 
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