Summer hits hard. 40° C is what she gets daily. How come she will survive? Staying hydrated to stay alive? Liquid flows so hot, root burnt, stem has its period. Dying and still hoping. But there’s one lacking. The beauty of red diminishes. Not too bold to say the green rises. How can we blame? We need to point out who’s who in order to join the game. Although sometimes cold rain passes by, she says nothing. And that’s perfect to put the blame. Two whole months of waiting, two whole years of ranting. The last green has been too long silent crying, waiting for the dust washed away.
Rain is lying.