Wind swept fields of grass and quiet brooks with soft sands
Smoke rose in the distance and the grass had not a chance
The fire burned with a passion like love
and engulfed the meadow in a relentless inferno from above
Not a seed was left nor a log unburned
Not a tree was left standing or stone overturned
Just the brook in silence and sands underneath
Now threatened by the sun and its relentless heat
that sucked out the life from the clouds in the air
and chased away hope from the ones in its care
and the brook dried up till the only remains
were the soft sands at the bottom and the trail they made
Now the newly formed desert waits for healing over time
With the memory of days made sweeter through rhyme
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