Remember dry years? 
You should
but regardless you must.
Long weeks when 
water was wasted with tears
to lens, to make light bend.
A cloud nears?
No. Fears.
Dry years again. 
Dry rusty gears
and a stain
of dried blood.
The hot iron thud,
the hot thrust
of the sun sears
the dust.
Remember the end?
Monday, October 26, 2015
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