Sunlight bakes the lonely sand,
rays like fingers of death's hand.
Dead, dry, arid, empty land,
No living things around, not even plants.

Every critter here is deadly,
as they skitter, hungry, daily,
food for once, today, maybe,
another day with stomach empty.

Rain seldom falls here,
maybe once each year,
scream and none will hear,
except the sand, front, sides and rear.

Pain, strife, struggle, fear,
hold onto life, for it is dear.
Desert, that's it's given name,
a lonely field of unmarked graves.

Painful daylight heat and freezing nights,
every waking moment is an effort.
And now, listen to me, as I write.
My love, life without you is a desert.