PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Dehydrated baby

In a cradle

Hands cupped a while

Chapped by baking sun

Reddish beneath the dust

Tired, tempted

To go completely flat

And fall to my side

But eyes spot silver line

On the horizon

They say it's just a myth

That leaves rise and cup

When sensing rain to come

But how else can i explain

The involuntary movement 

Of my hands

Exhausted as i am

They prepare to catch drops

As i hang on in

Till the smelling salts

Of geosmin

Breathe me anew

And the baby, resurrected,

Cries

And cries

and i thank god for the tears