Droughts
Scarce my water,
Sluggish the drought
and thirsty I am.
Storms of dust are sere,
Raging ample this year.
Embracing ill-shapen
chills.
Ceaseless heat
lands with moist
and boring atmosphere.
Livid I am.
Two candles I have lit.
Holding them twining Sam.
The one,
His right arm
could be his left.
Candles will shine
brilliant fine,
Fleeting moments.
Like angels martyred,
They burn out.
Then darkness reins,
As thunders mount
and hideous winds
blight my frailest windows.
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oldmedina |
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