Brown Crunchy Grass

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Nov 04, 2016 

Summertime hot, bright yellow star blazing. Day after day suns rays relentless.
Heatwave in full swing, no rain in site.
Bright blue up above, no clouds in the view.
Everything drying up turning brown and crunchy.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
Crunch, crunch goes the brown crunchy grass as I walk.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.

 

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