A silken veteran plotting a story
In the absorbent sands; under the sun's glory.
His ink thicker with the shake of a hand
And lighter with much of the same.
Thinking of home - on his seat wrote to the contrary.
Knowing his words were only temporary,
A dozenfold he has made the journey.
His dearest did disregard his strength. His pluck.
Though words had faded, his thoughts had not.
As sands shifted, his kin's had stopped.
With compassionate force onward he fought,
The swallowing sands became his plot.
