"Had you grown up in the depression and the middle of horrible sandstorms , you too would be able to see how memory could never be free of that particular misery. That's why I try to give it a twist of humor as if it were only a bit of drama for everyone to enjoy. Only then is it bearable. Please do enjoy!
Dawn attempted to waken all But halted beyond the rim For the golden sun lay hidden To escape from a wicked wind It swirled about in a frenzy Destroying all it could see, while Filling eyes and mouths with grit And calming himself with glee.
Earth's soil is rendered helpless In this powerless grip of shame As the wind has blown away all roads Making travel a 'degrading' game In sadness and despair she weeps Unwilling to 'go by air' but on occasion Without a choice. she sees ... a gleam!
And happiness soon follows tears As all of earth prepares for rest In order to harvest what lies beneath In the comfort of a warming breast Mr. Sun rolls along quite happily while Mr. Wind studies up on how it might be If ever he might just cure his throat of scratch He would still be able to sing.