Beneath a sky of searing blue,
He stands, a sentinel, strong and true.
The camel, weathered, wise, and old,
A tale of the desert, yet to be told.
His coat, the color of sun-baked clay,
Holds the memory of each scorching day.
His eyes, deep pools reflecting the light,
Have witnessed caravans lost in the night.
He chews with a rhythm, slow and steady,
On thorny shrubs, a desert remedy.
His hump, a reservoir, life's precious hoard,
For journeys long, a silent reward.
No whinny or neigh escapes his throat,
Only a rumble, a mournful note.
A whisper of winds on the endless sand,
A language of patience, understood by the land.
He kneels with a sigh, a weary grace,
A burden accepted, etched on his face.
A ship of the desert, a nomad's pride,
The camel, he walks, with the stars as his guide.
About the Creator
mahmoud elsaad
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Comments (1)
So beautifully written! Loved your poem!