Some Sand Grains

Poem III of the series of poems titled, "The Man"

Poem I - "Freedom's Ticket".
Poem II - "He Shouldn't have Spoken".

Unmiscible khaki grains of sands,

parched and therefore uncoagulated,

wonder about the gravelly road,

that cuts through them everyday.

A child chary of charitable hands,

lest gripped, and heavily berated,

for moving uninvited and aboard,

the road that cuts through everyday.

The wind uncaring of the sands’ hesitation,

throws them onto the rough and tumble, unasked like paters,

the right to the left, the left to the right,

mixing licentiously over the road all the while.

The grains must run to refuge,

the size and shape as their size and shape,

a sight and state familiar to their eyes and taste,

awaiting benevolent winds that act illiterate.

The Old man on the sand along the road

coughs, but doesn’t cover his nose,

under heat wears drenched clothes.

Sand grains stick to his rags, and some latch to his hair

A figure who enjoys the wind when it blows

Provenance to some sand grains of Godly homes.

Image from here.