Turquoise.

A turquoise coloured sky.
Through it no birds do fly.
I ask the question why.
The only answer i get is a worried sigh.
Thunder rips through the air.
My grandfather falls of his old porch rocking chair.
For our safety mother nature does not care.
Then through the sky whipping lightening the farm animals does scare.
Monsoon rain does flood the land.
My frightened mother does hold my hand.
This frightening scene my nerves can no longer stand.
The last waltz plays the heavenly band.
All around flooded and torn.
A deathly smell the air does adorn.
To my mother i say me i wish you had never born.
On every living face a sad frown is worn.
The end is on its way.
That is what the elderly say.
For our sins we all have to pay.
In this existence there is no other way.