Arid

Trampled seeds, seldom sprout.

Yet I tried, once again,

The overcast sky, inviting.

Promising life, rejuvenation.

With hopes galore,

My heart, I ploughed.

Roaring clouds, fuelling vigour,

The barren earth, mocking,

The skies above, uplifting.

Digging deep, uprooting,

Weeds of gloom, 

Of lies and betrayal,

With a startling thunder,

The clouds opened up,

A torrential deluge.

The chaff was quenched,

Yet years from then,

After many rains,

The seed never sprouted,

Twas dead, not dormant,

And the land that bore it,

Arid.