The poetry's dried up
Like a drop of water in the sahara
Any inspiration now evaporates
A thirst for words
Like cracked lips
Peel and sore
The rain came, washed down onto paper
Sorrows and sadness, splash
Drowning a page in rythm and wonder
The pitter patter beat
Giving life,
Where there wasn't before,
Saplings took to the ground
To soar ever higher into majestic beings
But now the acrid earth thirsts
Heels clack with rock under foot
The hacking of lungs as
Dust perfumes the air and
A dirty smell of burning lingers
Catching tightly at the back of your throat
Scorched ground gives way
To a seeming never-ending drought
Of words.