Poetry

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They look for fresh water,
That is good for to drink;
Sending son and daughter,
To find that does not stink.

The poor and the needy,
Will continue to seek;
But the rich and greedy,
Will merely have to speak.

For the rich send their slaves,
In through the desert sand;
No loss if find their graves,
In the hot and parched land.

For they have died of thirst,
Under the hot and dry heat;
Causing the skin to burst,
On the soles of their feet.

But God will not forsake,
Those who have true belief;
Rivers flow to a lake,
For them to find relief.

Water flows to valleys,
As it fills up the springs;
People praise in rallies,
From all that the Lord brings.

As the desert and its sand,
Starts to grow wild trees;
Turning into fertile land,
Feeling a gentle breeze.

We must understand might,
That will come from His hand;
If we ask of His light,
Do as God would command.

Copyright © 2011 Richard Newton Sherrer

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