THE MORNING SUN

The red-gold glint of the morning sun
Held a promise of a scorching day;
Although the breeze seemed to whisper
Don't worry, it will be okay.

Parched and dry, the land waits
For relief from the morning sun,
Now white-hot, and breeze dying
Harboring grief in everyone.

Tender roots no longer rise
From out of the ground,
No green can be found here,
Looking, looking all around.

Pray for rain; all the people
Who had the strength to move along
Packed and left the homestead,
Yes, every one of them is gone.

Skeleton of an ox found here
All that's left of life has gone,
Just the echo, just the echo
Of a little birds sweet song.

For in ten years of torment
No rain at all was seen,
Just a lonely little ghost town
That once was alive and green.

The morning sun shone brightly
Then just seemed to hide away -
Then dark clouds filed the sky;
It was not to late too pray!

Raindrops starting, teasing me,
Knowing I'd made this my home;
The only thought of it was
One of thanks to God alone!

Rain kept falling throughout
The day and far into the night;
Bringing life back to the people
Everything was going to be all right!

Another day, another reason -
People coming back one by one;
Returning to the little village
By the light of the morning sun.

Trust in God in all we pray for,
He will not leave us in despair;
It is He who brings the sunshine
And the rain so needed there.

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