The flowers were dead even as the day broke
The already drooping petals did not even
Have the energy to greedily lap up the water
From the few raindrops which sheepishly followed
The raging dust-storm, nor from
The half full steel tumbler
Slowly turning a dirty green.
The bright bright reds and oranges
And the podgy buds
Remained closed to the scorching sun
And while the heat burned and the dust-storms raged
Closer and closer to the tarmac
Knowing of no respite, but from
The few raindrops which sheepishly followed
The raging dust-storm.