The Cross

All alone I am with the cross.

Though I am not one in the church with the cross,

Still, I am an identity to save a few life.

With my appearance, I strike strife.

Have seen crops and lush grown around me.

With me being the guardian scavengers flee.

Kids play around they dress me with fashion.

Day and night, I do my job with passion.

No scavengers can rob my master’s sweat.

With drought and flood being, my threat.

I am out of hay, with a scary face.

I do my job, hoping the rain has some space.

We are at your mercy, the lush green turning to brown.

Nobody wants to see you frown.

I may be out of hay,

But I hate to see grey.

Please cross and be a Saviour.

Forgive us by being grandeur.