The sun burns the fields alight blogged at|3:55 PM|
And drinks the lake that sits for miles
The clouds melt in masses of white
And the wind screeches, its throat dries
Cover me gently, protect me I am sore
I cower in a corner, my soul dead by the core
My life is torn, forlorn and shorn,
My tears have dried, the sun burns more
I have drunk that lake, burnt that field
I have taken the clouds and the wind I steal
I am the sun but in all my glory
Why do I still sit alone, dry and longing?