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~
Copyright © Jesse Zerlaut | Year Posted 2016
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