The Sand
Harrow International Hong Kong, Mei Law, Poetry: Group 3
Swirling through the cloudless sky,
Spinning like a needle,
Drowning plants and passers by,
Merciless like the devil,
Rough like a raging sea,
Vicious like a viper,
Howling and prowling through the night,
Creeping through dawn and out of sight.
But then the beast becomes an angel,
With her fluttering of wings,
So silent she sings.
Drifting through the gentle wind.
Her song is heard from all around.
Her pride so great she wears a crown,
With her sweet, soft and cheerful tune,
Singing up towards the moon.
And when she’s calm she’s simply still,
Resting on the sloping hill.
A castle!
Majestic turrets and moat she needs,
Her marvellous glory for all to see.
A castle fit for a king for a day,
Until the children come out to play.
