"Raindrops on Roses"



The sun's cruel rays strike down upon the Earth

Cracking its surface, making it cry and bleed

It screams in agony, for it has no drink

It cries because its eyes, they burn

Naught but a dry and crinkling husk of the former beauty remains

Here in this desert of desolation, doom, and decay



The buzz of the chainsaws, the sickening thuds

As the bodies of the trees fall, dying

Soon to be part of one mass grave

As they make room for the ever growing plague

Of man that sweeps the planet



The silent sentinels of the forest bleed their sappish blood

Pooling on the ground, trying to ensnare those who killed them

With their last, dying effort

Their limbs crack and their bodies crash

And very few mourn their loss



Yet here, in the midst of this urban wasteland

There is a small sign of hope



On a deserted lot, covered in split concrete

Through the mist of the acidic and warm, spattering rain

A small red rose glistens, a warm red reminder

Of the beauty and strength of nature



Upon its silken crimson petals

Through the rainy haze

The raindrops on the rose smile at me

Laughing, for they have prevailed



©Randi Sears 2/14/2003

10:51 a.m.