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Brown Eyes

I really dislike my home.
Where the grass is yellow
And the one Texan autumn storm.
The drought has been and been,
Almost like forever.
Sparrows seem thin to the branch
By my dusty window: in the spring.

How could earth be so dull?
Why has color left and never returned?
I miss the rain and the
Color green.
I was ten the last time it was
Seen.
It may never come back.

I have waited a billion years for
Water, now
My flower hasn’t bloomed.
The ground isn’t dark but light
With cracks.
Like mountains for nature to border,
The drought and I have grown older.

…together with thorny Mexican poppies.




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