Scorched

Here is one I wrote last summer and forgot about it. Tell me what you think. How could I improve it?

Scorched
I feel as a dried worm in noon day’s sun.
If heat had weight I’d be lifting a ton.
There is no relief from the valley’s scorch.
The left side of my face hot as a torch.

It is a dry heat as they forever say,
So is the furnace baking the hard clay.
As I sit and wait for heat to subside.
Only water here are tears I have cried.

I need some help to continue this march.
A sip of water for my tongue so parched.
God, give me a sign you can feel my pain.
Is it too much to ask? I ask for some rain.

Last edited by Oblaidon 08-17-2010 at 05:39:42 PM