Scorched earth calls out
Wearied plants lift their arms
The cacti are withering
And still you are denied
The heat rises before my eyes
Distorting the distance
Leaving puddles of dust
And still you are denied
Calling for cloud cover
And wasting away
The storm brews in the distance
But still you are denied
Pressing together parched lips
My tongue sticks in my throat
The storm brews overhead
And still you are denied
The desert floor embraces me
Face upward to the skies
Your wetness from my lips
Has no longer been denied
10 comments:
Hi Marjorie, this is beautiful! I clicked over from Eric Trant's blog. Nice to meet you!
~ that rebel, Olivia
Wow. This made me realy thirsty! my throat IS stuck to my throat. Great imagery.
oop thats tongue stuck to my throat. silly me
Beautiful Marjorie a tear jerker for me.
Thanks for your comment as alway appreciated.
Yvonne.
Very, very nice. Now I need a drink of water.
Lee
Tossing It Out
Excellent poem about one of my favorite elements, the rain. I love the rain when it does no harm, I love walking under a soft Luvia, Greetings.
Lovely poem! It made rain seem almost... erotic.
Great use of repetition. I can feel the narrator's relief when the rain starts falling.
It it about a kiss?
Another lovely poem, Marjorie!
There's a little something for you on my blog today. :)
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