Sandstorm

The sun shining at her face, by the side
Of the almost barren well, she sat.

The wind, at times, played with her veil.

Was she a flower or a diamond in the desert?

The water at the bottom of the well sparkled

As much as her eyes, as she dazed at it.

The twinkle in her eyes could not hide

What she was longing for.

Looking up at the clear bright sky

She wished for something from deep inside.

Her wishes were neither plenty nor humongous.

Just a drizzle, of cold rain water, is what she longed.

Suddenly there was a deathly still in the air.

The strands of her black mane stopped to sway.

Her eyes caught a gigantic shadow, far-off.

Like a ghost it advanced and came her way,

Swallowing the camels, the coyotes and the cacti.

Before she turned around and sought an escape,

The sand hurled at her face and the storm

With all its might, tried to take.

But she crouched by the well and waited.

When the wind was still again, she rose

And smiled to herself for her valor.

As she began to dust her veil, she felt on her nose,

A rain drop, and just to be sure

She looked at the sky again.

It was not so bright, anymore.

Not as white as it was, anymore.

Like the sun was timid after catching

A glimpse of her without her veil.

Burying its face in the clouds out of shame.

Sigh! She gasped and told herself

If she had to pay such a price for every wish she made

She’d merrily do so, only if she had many

Such wishes, in the northern desert, to make.