Little White Lies

Wandering and pondering; white doves conjuring.

A haze of milky smoke; overshadowing passing folk.

A braided artwork of snowy threads - I’m a masterpiece of wispy webs.

Bridging the vaulted sky, higher than where the bluebirds fly.

A cry I hear - loud and clear,

Of the thirsty Earth below, begging me to flow.

The land parched beneath, asking for me to unravel my sheath;

Asking me to sing a melody of blissful spring.

Indeed I wish, to watch the waters swish.

Droplets falling far and wide, onto this land which has died;

Small and fragile they would fall - to fulfil my mother’s call.

But tears don’t come; instead, I stay numb.

False words of hope I whisper; saying that soon my tears would kiss her;

Little white lies - my needy disguise.

So, I weep, while the land succumbs to a deadly sleep;

Unable to break the drought - where life is now doused.