Oman desert hut | Oryx desert camp | Wahiba Sands | Oman | The Vault | poem | poetry | Teja on the Horizon

The Vault.

Tell no one, my friend. I have the key to the Vault. Therein are supplies of the most precious of things not from the hands of man. Time if you need it Peace for your wound Space for your flight: Whatever and all that is true. But I must ask beneath the door, I must…

Beauty

It doesn’t matter what she looks like.  Nor her plumes  Not her shape, nor even her size.  Her age irrelevant her skin unrealised When she looks eye to eye and speaks her beauty blooms! For once her petals open it is discovered  Woman blossoms when she feels beloved. – Manly, Australia. I wrote this poem…