Sandstorm – Poem


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.

Respond now!