Amidst cracked earth and withered crops,
A parched land devoid of raindrops,
The soil cries out in silent plea,
For droplets of life to set it free.
The sun beats down with ruthless force,
Till all that's left is barren remorse,
And every plant, every living thing,
Withers away without a spring.
The thirst is real, the pain acute,
As life slips by in shades of mute,
And though the clouds may gather near,
Their tears are lost in dust and fear.
For droughts are not just seasons lost,
But symbols of a greater cost,
A warning of a world gone wrong,
Where nature's song is but a mournful song.