Travel under the eastern sky
keep your eyes on the road, do not ask why
that barren landscape, the color of rye
makes the hardened townspeople cry.
Legend states that the dusty flatland
was a servant to the sun so grand
the sun demanded amusement from the land
and the land created the dance of the sand.
The sand would fly throughout the desert space
for the sun to bestow her grace.
The act would make a storm and erase
any proof of fate and leave no trace.
The townspeople never spoke of the event,
but you must know what happened to an extent
when small ones run away at the advent
of these storms, the sands erase all torment.
You must vow to not wander from the road
when the sands hear the sun's lovely ode
and feel the need for a storm to explode
to dance and bury us all, as the sun foretold.
© Tatiana
Hey hey I actually wrote this one before my concussion so with a couple of edits (and after much rest) i'm ready to post it. A part of me feels like there is an 'I' somewhere in here, but I'm fairly certain there isn't. I think my use of sounds that sound like 'I' are confusing me lol. No 'O' is next.
