Rose Of Drylands Poem by Mogare Nyamoko

The thorns harmless I thought,
The sweet aroma alluring
And quickly my hands plucked
The desert rose.

Thought I alone
Was the lonely Traveller
With eyes on the desert rose.
Thought of it's suffering upon;
The coldless hot sun,
The naked angry wind,
The raging threatening sand dune,
A flower worth taking home.

The beautiful pink color of it's own,
Made a stance from far.
Why was I the only one plucking it?
A killer of the desert austhetics.