Drought Poem by Green Leaf

Nothing comes.
The pen has run dry, the drops try to flee,
Out from the sea,
Where I could see.
The words have no sparkle,
They lost all the bubbles and can not perform the duty they ought to.
It seems as though sometimes the vacum is king.
It’s needless to state that creativity’s given.
And sometimes taken and shaken,
But sometimes mistaken.

That’s why it flees.
One can not predict when it will be
I could compare it with a bee.

Spring has just come!
And flowers awaken.
The beehive is ready to launch the assault.
The work trusty bees are buzzing with baskets.
The flowers are blooming and welcome the bee.
An ancient affair of flower and bee.

This romance in seasons
Provide what is needed for both flower and bee.
Thus every one gives and takes in return.
However it’s always a game of supply.
By giving and taking one keeps the line.
Till the season will die and the a new one will shine.