The beige grass is calling out.
To raindrops that drip.
It's dying of dryness, it begs for relief.
After the sunshine, the dry grass calls grief.
The danger that comes from a being with a match.
As all nature's magic dispatched in a flash.
Trees all blazing, look amazing.
Conjured up pictures.
Destroyed habitats.
Ruined in a flash.
Forest homes and camp sites.
Fires, cremations.
Accidentally by wombats.
Not obeying.
The beige grass is gone.
(c)LIVVI
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
The beige grass is calling out.
To raindrops that drip.
It's dying of dryness, it begs for relief.
After the sunshine, the dry grass calls grief.
The danger that comes from a being with a match.
As all nature's magic dispatched in a flash.
Trees all blazing, look amazing.
Conjured up pictures.
Destroyed habitats.
Ruined in a flash.
Forest homes and camp sites.
Fires, cremations.
Accidentally by wombats.
Not obeying.
The beige grass is gone.
(c)LIVVI
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