Rains

• Kirsten Lowe, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2009

Dust swirled around my body,
Choking my throat,
Dragging my feet through the dry earth,
It wasn't always like this,
The spindly grasses stabbing at me,
All life had left this place,
Even the sky was barren,
Life had left with the rains,
The precious clouds light and wispy blowing over the dying land,
Passing over the farms,
Floating to the coast, beautiful and luscious green,
Just like it used to be,
But not now,
It will never be the same,
The land is dying,
Dry and hot, sucking up as much moisture as it can,
But it can never get enough,
Never will it be green again.