Fog And Myth
The Days were dark, the land was dead;
by sylvia spencer
no seed had grown the drought had spread.
The land once had a river that was diamond
clear and her waters would spray as she ran
in the weir. Fish would leap and there was food
for all, but now a black cloud had fallen and the age
of myth had built a wall.The green and beauty
had all gone out, everything was dry and the land
was full of drought. Did a witch or a warlock cast a
magic spell, or was it a fiery red dragon that had
sprung from hell.
The land once had a Unicorn that stayed close to
an illuminous blue pool, and when he skipped around
pink and green hues of mercury flowed from the water
fall.This water fall was once the spring of life, but
now it was just want and strife. The land was barren
and the people cried; the food had all gone and
the children died. This mythical tale is not one of
old; it is happening today in our very own fold.
Children are starving because of drought and war
but there must be someone out there that will open
the right door.A poem that has been written in the past
tense; is your brain like fog, thick and dense.