Scorched
I feel as a dried worm in noon day’s sun.If heat had weight I’d be lifting a ton.
There is no relief from the valley’s scorch.
The left side of my face hot as a torch.
It is a dry heat as they forever say,
So is the furnace baking the hard clay.
As I sit and wait for heat to subside.
Only water here are tears I have cried.
I need some help to continue this march.
A sip of water for my tongue so parched.
God, give me a sign you can feel my pain.
Is it too much to ask? I ask for some rain.
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