I pine for you my dear
as I gaze at the horizon
and beyond in search
of signs of your arrival
I wished imminent yet,
skies these days appear
addicted only to cerulean.

Guilty to long for you
solely in your absence
heated by unfaltering
blistering beams, my
barren soils exhale
the last remains of you
in ascending vapours.

Truth is, deprived of you I,
slowly die, inexorably
thirsty for your essence
endlessly suppliant,
exhausted by the wait
as I watch waters run dry.
Mourning fountains.

Lake levels drop and sailers
linger moored no longer
allowed to navigate shallowness,
disoriented fall drowsiness
felt I had to let you know,
I miss you Mister Rain
and yearn for your return.

Yours faithfully, Missus Earth.