Tears in the Watchtower
Alas the damage of the withering flowers
as witnessed by the sentinels of the lofted towers,
calls for sympathetic tears to swell up in their eyes
as the pleas of the flowers rise up in the skies.
April flowers are in peril as the dry wind blows,
as desperation settles in as heaven even knows.
It all equals up since time was an empty face
as deserts and wetlands stay in their place.
Watchtowers are the eyes of the teary clouds,
answering the pleas for which heaven avows.
I wrote this for the Belt and Beyond
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