by super sleuth
The struggle to survive in a barren wasteland.
Standing in my garden,
Under the blistering sun.
I look up high, into the sky,
Search for what needs done.
I knew not what was hotter,
The sun, or the blistering earth.
I only knew if it didn't rain,
What my garden would be worth.
I drop a bucket into the well,
Wait for the imminent splash.
Hearing nothing...I just sigh,
Wish I could take a bath.
I look to the west, to the setting sun,
Pray for a reprieve.
Not a cloud in sight to offer life,
To my dying plants that need.
Tears, exhaustion, frustration and fear,
Live deep in the well of my soul.
If I could shed enough of my tears,
My plants might get healthy and whole.