The golden dust, the scent of coming rain, The rising sun on the vast and open plain. A canvas painted in ochre, green, and gold, A story ancient, and so bravely told. The engine hums, a low and patient sound, As the jeep goes searching for hallowed ground. A silhouette of giraffes, tall and serene, A living image on a wild and endless scene The mighty lions, a sun-soaked tawny pride, Hidden in the grasses where their instincts guide. A leopard's shadow, elusive and so rare, Sliding through the thicket with a quiet, watchful stare. The trumpeting echo of the elephant's call, As families wander, moving free and tall. A wildebeest stampede, a blur of motion swift, A thundering promise, a primal, moving gift. And when the twilight paints the sky anew, With fiery hues of crimson and deep blue, The campfire crackles, a low and steady glow, With jackals barking in the dark, and stars that grow. The stillness settles, vast, deep and wide, The wildness stirring, with nowhere left to hi...
A Girl's Grief
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The little girl sits on her bedroom floor,
where dust motes dance in the sun.
She holds a faded photograph and nothing
reminds her that time has run.
She wears the sweater that was once his own,
oversized on her small frame.
It smells of old books and worn-out leather,
and whispers of his name.
The tears that fall make constellations
on the picture in her hand.
Her father smiles, a memory now,
in a quiet, distant land.
She doesn't weep for the man he was,
but for the time they'll never see.
The future stories, the things unsaid,
the forever that won't be.
The world outside keeps turning,
but her small room holds still.
Held captive by a quiet grief,
and a love that time can't kill.
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