• Michaela

Sand Globe

Updated: Jun 2

A hot sun glistening white on gold sand Reaching to the sun crowned ocean, An ocean's-breadth East And to the feet of moon capped mountains A mountain's length West. There is no water Eagerly pursued, hope-silver, pools Soak into the earth Faster chased after, quicker gone. The figure stretches there, Prostrate, beseeching, An empty cup clutching an empty cup. There is no hand to shake, To lift up a sandstorm, bury the mummy, It never knew the glass arced over all Containing only desert Only sand.

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