desert storms are moving out
manmade blasts of aftermath
leveling the jagged peaks and mounts
a quiet kind of breathless heat
blistering the earthen seeds
dry and cracked, the foliage near death
an air conditioned room is all that's left
the only way their breath could still be drawn
they stay awake all night and fear the dawn
where waits another blazing sun
life was lost, the war was won
living in the infamy they wrought
fires ranging down from mountain tops
windblown depth of hell now met
shivering in burning flames - the drought...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .