The Traveller Who Stole the Sand

The Traveller Who Stole the Sand

He arrived beneath the desert sun,
With nothing more than a little bag,
Nobody knew where he had come from,
Or why he walked beneath that flag.

He looked across the endless dunes,
At golden sand as far as eyes could see,
Then bent down quietly one morning,
And filled his little bag with glee.

The guards came running after him,
They shouted, stop, what have you done?
He turned around and simply smiled,
As though he’d stolen the morning sun.

“Why would you steal the desert sand?
There’s more of it than you could need.”
He looked at them and answered softly,
“Because one day this place I’ll leave.”

He wanted something he could carry,
Something small to take away,
A little piece of where he’d travelled,
To remember every single day.

But stealing sand was still forbidden,
So they marched him to the gate,
He handed back his little treasure,
And somehow smiled at his strange fate.