In lands where sun-scorched sands do lie,
A barren, silent, endless sky,
The desert breathes a heated sigh,
In solitude, where time stands by.
Yet, whispers stir in heated air,
A promise made, from who knows where,
The clouds, they gather, dark and fair,
With rain to quench the desert\'s prayer.
Each drop, a melody of life,
That cuts through drought like sharpened knife,
Bringing a change, ending the strife,
In harmony, where once was rife.
The desert blooms, a rare delight,
With colors, vivid, breaking night,
A dance of joy in rain\'s soft light,
Where once was empty, now is bright.