May 25
All through villages,
floodwater crept,
up land and down land
as villagers slept.
Creeping and sweeping
in wave after wave.
How could the people
ever be saved?
floodwater crept,
up land and down land
as villagers slept.
Creeping and sweeping
in wave after wave.
How could the people
ever be saved?
This poem was literally written after I was wakened by a nightmare on 11.11.11.
Thankfully it has not thus far been prophetic!
Thankfully it has not thus far been prophetic!
