The rains skip over the dour desert,
leaving it dusty and unpolished.
The immense heat is its pestilence,
as it drives away its potential guests.
...
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'But for those daring enough to enter'... deranged more like, given your vividly poetic description of what awaits the unwary. Only desert in Ireland is on Good Friday when all the pubs close! ! Think I'll go for a beer now after reading your work... rgds., frank.
Your poem 4 sure made me feel the heat of the desert! Amazing imagery and feeling in this one...Originality is the key to this one! I thank you for sharing and I look forward to reading more of your work...... Take care of U... =Shelley=