The sun is high;
the sky let out a big sigh.
Sand crystals sparkle as they bake hot.
The clouds,
banished,
and the earth,
left without it's hat.
Mild winds tickle the atmosphere.
Rays race to grace the air.
Creatures burrow to have a chance of seeing the morrow.
The sky chose to smile
at the expense of her tears.
Now the clouds are no longer bearing
and the earth, left barren.
#TheMouthpiece
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem