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The grievous heat scalding my back,
Causing my neck to leisurely crack.
The boiling sun bids to blind me,
In East Africa where I be.
Ambling through the withering crops,
Sauntering along the obsolete docks,
Its a monstrous feat with parching heat,
In East Africa where I be.
The sun is emerging majestically like a crimson orb in the sky,
And shattering all our ambition and gain,
And causing life to die.
The trees no more waltz under the watch of the sky,
The vines are no more showing an array of tangles and ties.
The flowers would show a display of vermilion, gold and green,
But they have now ceased blooming it seems,
Heat caresses the land with a blazing scorching touch,
Setting the horizon ablaze and demolishing much.
The air ripples with melancholy and woe,
Our residents plead for the sweltering heat to go.
Our fate is undoubtedly unknown to all,
With its heat the sinister sun challenges us to a brawl.
Death will rise
And warmth will come,
Our blithe thoughts will become glum.
Our faces scarlet from our working pace,
As drops of sweat trickle down our helpless face.
We are here no more, who am I writing this for?
Life is perished here,
Starvation is near.

by Neha Vijayakumar (10)
Independent Entry

Competition - Out Of This World

Copyright remains with the author.