My Country

The water circulates the dam,
Glistening in the sun.
The trees, shrivelled and ancient,
Swaying in the breeze.

The dry cracked ground hard beneath my feet,
Longing for just a trickle of water,
The calves, feeble and frail,
Mustering up the strength to take one last breath.

The rolling hills blanketed with olive green grass,
Piglets roll around at my feet, having a blast
All the cows grazing freely in the meadow,
Oblivious to the pain and suffering around them

As night draws nearer,
The sun shies away, darkness creeps up.
Bursts of colour erupt the sky,
The sun vanishes, timid

The road lay aimlessly in front of me,
The tyres scraped along the dirt road,
I looked back for one last farewell,
Looking back to the place I call home