Wanderlust

• Lucy Edwards, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2018

The once moist soil is merely dust,
The rolling plains turned gold,
The drought has left me with wanderlust,
For I wish for the days of old.
Back when water was more than a memory,
And I woke to the morning dew,
Now miserable weather would be treasury,
For there’s barely a living ewe.
I’d love to leave this suffering land,
to where rain is commonly seen,
For my family’s sake, I must stay my hand,
And wait ‘til the drought has been.
Surely the rain will come – it must,
The clouds will hear our cries,
‘Til then I’ll ignore my wanderlust,
My beloved country will rise.