The wilted orchids yearn for water
to bloom and sprout out in winter
as the dusty desert dreams of fresh leaves
and autumn showers alter the vineyards.

"We shall rise again"
leaps out of his lips
as he waters and redresses
the sunflowers droopy stems
shoving ways for sunbeams
to gleam on crooked petals.

"Winter will come again"
lingers on his daytime vagabond mind
as he yearns for the cool and calmness
of the breezy breeze of an ember
to rejuvenate and vivify his melting skin.

"These too shall pass"
pops out of the primitive stereo system
deafening his hearing as he wanders_
wanders around the long-gone hectic street
a scavenger, humping on waste.

now a sanctuary, no mongers left
now a sanctuary, no mongers left
he's dying of hunger - pandemic ailment
his legs fumble on soil
as his stomach worms gnarl and grumble.

now a sanctuary, no mongers left
the lousy street noise echoes in his head
yet..
"These days shall come to pass"
keep swinging in his stagnant mind
as he sits on his bench of hope
in anticipation of the bread and butter days.

The wilted orchids sprout out in winter
and the sunflowers gleam in summer
while he's still on his ruddy mood mender
with an empty bowl and sagging hopes
muttering...
"These days shall come to pass".