Dry dusty desert

Dry dusty desert,
Each day the sun warms, scorches and cools
Dusty and dustier I get
The people here are mean as the rains, they shed no sweat
Clouds gather only to shade the world
But I always die to get drenched, dye myself with sand mud
Like it is, it seldom does
When it does, it’s flush floods and have no mud to toy around with
And I’m taken back to square one- letting the sun do its thing
With might and anger the wind howls
My sons taken away to the dunes
Though they stand upon me I still green with jealous
That should have been me, I deserve the view
I forgot the beauty of the setting sun
Forgot the splendor of the trails of taders treking the town
I don’t even recall when I was awed by the musical pudding of camel’s feet
I forgot the excitement my heart leaped for at the contact with Queen Sheba’s soft feet
I forgot the taste of life, when they said that water is life
All I know is the smell of hot chocking air
Like the traveller, I am so hopeful to suffocate
Dehydrate and give the bucket a kick
But then I will miss the shepherd
Will wish to feel sheeps bellies on my skin
Miss the everlasting pyramids
The dates, the oases, springs, the thickets
The glory of Cairo
At least my gut is the Nile
Dead, I will give life.

© JF The Poet

1 thought on “Dry dusty desert

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