Jah\'ree stood below the aprons.
In a swell of sand.
Waltzing from the market.
Sack of gold in hand.
The caravan has just arrived.
A big man, a small fellow.
Driving goods in this heat ridden yellow.
Welcomed the man,
And off they rode, to the melting land.
The storm has just arrived.
He pulled over his hood.
For the long haul awaits.
Mingling with the goods.
Until his people can be saved.
The dragon breathes on,
As does the war wage.
Tattered armor and patterns of blood.
There is no cage,
To hold this grudge.