Season Three : Annual

Croak.

Written ~March 2018

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Annual

I shooed and screamed at clouds; I hoped
They were not here to stay --
I took great pain to make it rain
When they'd gone away.

But my earth, it scorched and burned,
The dust engulfed it all;
Sandstorms swept up all around me,
Making me feel small.

And when the scornful cloud returned, oh
How it loved to gloat.
The conquered dust became a bog,
With wretched me afloat.
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