“Had you grown up in the depression and the middle of horrible sandstorms , you too would be able to see how memory could never be free of that particular misery. That’s why I try to give it a twist that at least makes it just like it was a bit of drama for everyone to enjoy. Only then is it bearable. Please do enjoy!
Dawn attempted to waken all
But halted beyond the rim
For the golden sun lay hidden
To excape from a wicked wind
It swirled about in a frenzy
Destroying all it could see, while
Filling eyes and mouths with grit
And calming himself with glee.
Earth’s soil is rendered helpless
In this powerless grip of shame
As the wind has blown away all roads
Making travel a ‘degrading’ game
In sadness and despair she weeps
Unwilling to ‘go by air’ but on occasion
Without a choice. she sees … a gleam!
And happiness soon follows tears
As all of earth prepares for rest
In order to harvest what lies beneath
In the comfort of a warming breast
Mr. Sun rolls along quite happily while
Mr. Wind studies up on how it might be
If ever he might just cure his throat of scratch
He would still be able to sing.