Desert Poem by Joan Hart

It’s a desert here,
Cracked earth, thirsty and barren
It stretches out
Forever.
Its only thoughts
Are the thirst
And the sun, beating down
It can’t remember
Water
The feel of it
As it trickles down the throat
A beautiful
Clear
Waterfall,
Cool and soothing
Only the suffocating heat -
Soaking up any sign of moisture
Closing in, its hands
Around the neck
Death will not come -
The desert lives on the verge of existence
It hasn’t the courage
To die