|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
User Rating:
|
|
--
/10
(0 votes)
|
|
|
|
| |
Fruit ripe from the harvest, did not come this year.
The farmer did his best, but only reaped a tear.
His fields were all flooded, the rain wouldn't stop.
The land like a riverbed, it could yield no crop.
He struggled through winter, with hardly a scrap.
Spring's rain brought fear that his land was a trap.
He'd willed it to his son,
but could he still fight?
Tribulation had him undone, till the morning's sunlight.
Rita Jette
| Submitted Date |
: |
Thursday, January 02, 2003 |
|
|
Read poems about / on: rain, son, winter, spring, fear
|
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
Poets
