Brewing over the sands
of old
Lost and found by the
wind they go
Scotching heat with sun
up high
Dunes some high or some
little low.
Up they rise and fly o
why?
Only to settle a while?
Where o where is thy place?
As though, no place to
hide.
Drops and drops they
come falling down
Up from high above
Making thine hard and
wet below
Only to settle for a
while.
Once the drops are over
And the air with its
blow
Moving by it they go
Lost sands are all over
below.
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