The Farmers Plight
Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:15 pm
OK, been reading some of your poems, so inspired, wrote this little one early today
The Farmers Plight
His footsteps trace each other,
as he ploughs the dusty soil.
His face is etched with worry,
his hands are rough from toil.
His seen no rain for months now,
the crop it's time to sow.
His hopes are slowly fading,
his spirit's sinking low.
His son moved to the city,
where life, it's said, is grand.
He writes 'Dear Dad..come join me
its no life on the land'
These words he often ponders, but
his ties to the land are strong.
His familys reigned for years here,
to leave now would be wrong.
As the sun sets on the hillside,
another day, no sign of rain.
And when it rises in the morning,
he'll be there, on the plough, again.
Sue Pearce
The Farmers Plight
His footsteps trace each other,
as he ploughs the dusty soil.
His face is etched with worry,
his hands are rough from toil.
His seen no rain for months now,
the crop it's time to sow.
His hopes are slowly fading,
his spirit's sinking low.
His son moved to the city,
where life, it's said, is grand.
He writes 'Dear Dad..come join me
its no life on the land'
These words he often ponders, but
his ties to the land are strong.
His familys reigned for years here,
to leave now would be wrong.
As the sun sets on the hillside,
another day, no sign of rain.
And when it rises in the morning,
he'll be there, on the plough, again.
Sue Pearce