IN DESERT OF RHYMES

..there's not a cry, a laugh or shout
but echoes never ending...

the day is parched, the nights are worse
cackles begin but turn to sighs
groans are born, they grow to moans

the stillborn howls
pealing screech for the dead unmourned
and yolky ball coasting the rueful plains

its name is Hope-it rises and falls
there's wonder in its wake
for when and what the egg will hatch

in desert of rhymes
there's not a smile, a wink or what
but echoes never ceasing...

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