The Cry of Drought

Thousands of trees wave goodbye, as drought grows.

Birds flutter away, abandoning their nests.

I hope for the best, but no matter what I can’t control the humidity of the land.

I can’t hear the beautiful morning birds sing and call or chirping crickets at dawn.

There is silence, only silence, slowly sinking into my ears.

No longer am I able to see the cows grazing on the golden grass.

All I can see is a sad cracking ground deforming from its original shape.

I wish I could go back in time and stop people from wasting water, but now is too late.

I stare at drought covered land; its beauty forgotten.

I stand, catching the warm breeze, feeling the atmosphere which seems to be a woolly jumper I can’t take off.

If only I could shoot the sun down,

If only I could gather clouds together,

If only I could command grass to grow, rain to fall and the sun to disappear,

But I can’t.        

I can’t shoot the sun down          

I can’t gather clouds together,    

I can’t command grass to grow, rain to fall and the sun to disappear.

Drought wouldn’t have been caused if we took care of water supply.