The Earth has grown old.
When she smiles,
Her smooth skin wrinkles
Into mountains and volcanoes,
Ridges that crisscross her face
And leave her cheeks scarred
With lines and crevices.

The Earth has grown old.
She cries,
And the rivers spill down her face -
Torrents that run along canyon lines
On her cheeks.
She shivers from cold,
And her body rumbles and quivers.
She exhales,
And the air escapes in puffs of deadly smoke
Until she is stifled by her own warm breath.

The Earth has grown old,
With crinkled hills near her eyes
When they twinkle with experience
And well with tears.
Her green eyes cloud over with a gray haze.
Her thin lips lie straight,
Chapped by winds and storms -
Storms that rage in her heart
And break on her face.

She is old,
So she trembles with fear:
Fear of neglect
Fear of desolation
Fear that this will be
Her last walk around the sun.