The landscape is arid,
Dry as a bone,
Parched from every drop.
The branches lie bare,
Nothing green to be seen.
Dust blows south as a sandstorm approaches,
The ripples in the red waves,
Move with the rush of warm desert air.
The patterns refer to creatures near,
Running or slithering out of fear.
The moon shines bright over what lies beneath,
Dry bones are scattered all over the ground,
On the ocean of sand
The cactus are many,
The water is few,
A tiny crack in a large piece of wood,
Enough to sustain only the few who find it.
The sunset is wonderful
The red and the yellow,
The orange and pink,
Beautiful to the end,
I will see until it’s finish…
this is a picture poem, you know how the words do in the shape of the story they tell… but i drew it in yr9, and its not very good. so this will have to do.
use your imagination!!