Foreign Land Poem by Wesley Mincin

Foreign Land

On orange sands of a distant country,
at the time of a future century,
do I listen to the crashing waves of this world's ocean.

Beyond the red clouds live three neighbors:
Durgan, Forlor, and Saranayor,
manipulating tempers of the massive ocean's motion.

Further out, a steel made jungle,
happens to be this world's single,
center where this country's people meet the people of Earth.

Once a place I could call home,
a peaceful place in which to roam,
but now another country with a different policy.

Now I'm here on this new planet,
alien to the grass and granite,
yet I feel that this is where I'll find my destiny.