Analysis of Cotton crop blues

Cotton worker blues
The brilliant sun bursts open,
Flooding the dry brown fields,
Shining brightly like a candle.

Wax dripping down the sides,
Yellow rays of purity bleaches
The skin of the workers
A brilliant red
Or shade of black

A symbol of grit and greatness
Coupled with hard work,
The sweat glints
Opaque in the summer light,

The labourers labour over their produce
Only to give it to the master
Who greedily sells it pays gives nothing in return.
They are worn ragged by work,
Their backs,
Evidence of the whip
Gaping wounds
Infected,
Puss seeping out,
Someone has to be a breadwinner
In this society of unfairness
Draped in a cloak of respectability,

The sun sets.
Spilled scent gets caught in the wind.
Floats off into the distance
Disappears...

The crops sway bedraggled in the wind.
Whistling a tune of sadness as it waltzes.