Rob Knetsch

The Song - Poem by Rob Knetsch

Raindrops keep falling
down and down on the desert sand
too dry, too hot to absorb the water
a thick film is formed, sliding down
the sandhills where gravity creates

On my head
the sun is burning away the last hairs
while my skin burns as red as a boiled
lobster in a pot, the brain melts and is
getting laced with many citations of the

"The song" © 2014 Rob Knetsch

Topic(s) of this poem: rain drops, song, sun, water, rain, falling, head

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 23, 2018

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