Christian Lacdael

(Bury St. Edmunds, England)

Dead grass


Its best has past, once lush now harsh,
These unforgiving days won't last,
Wilted, weathered, stripped of colour,
We know without words life will recover,
Sights married to the sun and smiles,
A host to play and lazy days,
Desert dry ground fractures apart,
As the sorrowful plants look parched,
It's greener on the other side,
There seems but patches still alive,
Fields in the sun damaged and changed,
Once latched onto ground winds whip up,
On the verge of having enough,
Dead grass reflections of the sun,
Unshaded regions nigh ruined.

Submitted: Friday, July 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, July 26, 2013

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