The leathery lord

The leathery lord of the sun-scorched plains,

With eyes that hold wisdom in desert rains.

He treads on the sand, a silent machine,

A ship in the dunes, where the wind has been keen.

His hump, a proud mountain, a fortress of fat,

A reservoir storing where water is at.

His lashes like curtains, shielding his sight,

From sandstorms that rage in the merciless light.

He kneels with a groan, a weathered old king,

As nomads draw water, the desert life's spring.

His breath, a hot whisper, a sigh in the heat,

A patient companion, with tireless feet.

He carries their burdens, their dreams, and their fears,

Across endless landscapes, through sun-drenched years.

A loyal companion, a friend to the end,

The leathery lord, till his journey transcends.