Dry

In the midst of draught,

Slender fingers fought,

I could see the ground cracked,

Showed the never ending track.

 

Bald birds, furless reptiles,

Gallivanted around the piles,

Live stock’s’ lives away were blown,

By the stench of their own.

 

I burned the midnight oil,

Clear the path, rebuild the soil,

With hope tomorrow standing high,

The tree of life with all his might.

What are you looking for?