A Serpent's Request

Thorns grow tall on white roses
as a snake slithers by
the soil is depleted
the rain never cries
The snake is parched
and longing for a drink
but when the rain arrives
through the soil, it shall sink
The sun beats down
on all things growing
so much done
yet time is slowing...
To toil for acceptance
work for affection
rid this land
of death and infection
To remove the worst
and leave the rest
all this and more
is the serpent's request