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Like Waving Silks
October 1, 2018
Scorching, scalding heat
Dense, rippling air all around
Fine sand parting like soft water
Dunes travelling the infinite valley
Parched and dry, devoid of life,
My sun-bleached bones have fallen victim to the sun's
Beautiful devastation
The sizzle of my float in the haze,
The flames have yet ceased to raze
The sands of time are running dry,
From the desert is where I fly.
© Andrew S., Milford, CT
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I tried to write a poem where the obvious topic was actually a symbol for an abstract idea.