Land of Vim

Nothing there is quite the same without the tears of spring. No plant has grown, nor blossom bloomed, nor stirs a living thing. I traveled there a time or two when came my simple whim. Long before such destitute along the sands of vim. A desert born within the night, all living things have died. Since the day hope went away and the skies no longer cried. No vanity affords it now, the vernal paradise on the brim. A shameful state as of this date.. The once proud land of Vim. Children's laughter washed away, now sandstorms windy hazing. No weeping heavens to cool the burn of noon day heat ablazing. Sun bleached stones that folk once roamed before things drew to dim. Without the rain, nothing remained to revive the life of vim. ~California and the future to come~