DESERT WEALTH
By Billie Cullimore

Through the sifting sands of the desert
An old man, tattered and torn.
Walked with a tiny gray burrow,
A prospector, dejected, forlorn.

His life had been spent in the desert.
Digging and searching for gold.
The dream he had as a young man,
Now grown stale and old.

He stopped to look at his twisted hands,
The gray in his beard and hair.
He thought of the life he had wasted,
When his wealth had always been there.

His gold is the desert sunset.
Diamonds, the stars on high.
Emeralds, the drops of water,
That fall from the azure sky.

Amethyst, Topaz and Ruby,
Are the gifts of the desert flower.
To know that his search had ended
Gave him strength, knowledge and power.

Now he had come to the twilight of life.
What more could an old man ask?
Than to behold this glorious fortune,
The reward of his arduous task.