The Safari

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...
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The Hour Glass

Upon the shelf of ages, tall and thin,

A glass of life, where all our days begin.

The upper bulb holds shining, shifting grains,

The promised years of sun and sudden rains.

A tiny throat, a narrow, measured stream,

Where every falling grain is a lost dream.


First, slow and steady, childhood's languid pace,

A long, soft wait in time's indifferent space.

But then the middle, where the flow quickens,

As tasks pile up and the heart often sickens.

The sand flies faster, memories start to fade,

A life consumed by promises unmade.


The bottom swells with all that's come to pass,

Reflecting back what was held in the glass.

A heavier weight, a darkening of tone,

The quiet knowledge that you're not alone.

At last, the final grains descend and fall,

The hourglass has answered its own call.

No turning back, no starting all anew,

Just silence settling where life flowed through.



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