Drought
Dawn heralds a new day
Breezes blow the same way
Dust builds on the fence rail
Homestead’s dirty and pale.
Teasing clouds pass on by
Too dry even for a fly
Machinery caked in dust
Chains coated in rust.
Willy-willy’s continuous swirl
More dust they do hurl
Bleached skeletons dot the paddocks
Dead gardens hold rusty mattocks.
Old cockey gone to the city
Not looking for any pity
In his flat eyeing the sky
Alone the old man does cry.
Dawn heralds a new day
Breezes blow the same way
Dust builds on the fence rail
Homestead’s dirty and pale.
For his home he grieves
Banks, calling them thieves
His plea’s they find boring
Forced out that terrible morning.
Finishing his last beer
Onto the bed that’s near
Dreaming of a lush pasture
Drifting to the hereafter.
Who’ll know he’s passed away
He will be found one day
They’ll think “another old man”
Knowing not his life was grand.
Dawn heralds a new day
Breezes blow the same way
Dust builds on the fence rail
Homestead’s dirty and pale.
David J Delaney
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Great write Dave, ty.
Cheers
Ch'erie