The Desert Woman
I remember,
Within the loose circle of a veil
A face strong, striking and pale
Bearing a Sphinx-like riddle
Its expression stoic, features intriguing
Chiseled sharply by piercing winds
Tanned darkly by the blazing sun
It called for a poet to feel its solidity
A historian to read the history engraved on it
In isolation it stood, in distance it was lost
Leaving its imprint on my memory
All these years after it keeps haunting
The only feature in the vast monotony of that desert
A rare ore amidst the grains of sand
Unread, unnoticed, unnamed
Insignificant and opposite of Ozymandias’ fame
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