Of Sky And Ocean
P
Peter S. Quinn
0
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Of sky and ocean, here comes the rain,
Into dessert dust, without leaving a grain.
Roaring and roaring its water aimlessly on,
Until from the earth's floor each dropp is gone.
Of dessert and storm, here comes a corn,
It goes in your eyes and rips there and torn.
Your sightings are poor after drifting in sun,
It looks like the weather has beaten and won.
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