A flurry of aggressive orange and brown,
stinging eyes and coughing lungs.
I force myself deeper, trying not to drown,
as I make my way through the sand.
A ripped tea towel across my face,
My air tank in this sea of dust.
But the winds still hit me like a mace,
yet I do not falter.
I’m nearly there now, only a few more steps,
The gale still fights to stop me.
I open the door and take a fresh breath,
I’v made it to the store.