I trekked across the Sahara,
It took me many months;
it’s something that you should try and do,
even if you only do it wonths.
I brought back a single grain of sand
to remind me of that Sandy land,
it was the grain that became embedded in my eye;
I look upon it, by and by.
That grain, apart from all its friends,
howls at night, it never ends,
it misses them, and long will cry,
when it sees a camel…
not passing by.
My grain of sand,
I took it to the beach,
but the beach was not its home;
and the Saharan sands were out of reach,
and it just did not like Frome.
I must go back
to the sand and the sky,
to return the grain that yearns;
I left my Panama hat there,
my umbrella and a sock there,
I know just where to find them,
I know the very rock there
upon which they both were left;
and, if that grain should return
to the place from whence it came;
then, like the pining grain of sand
I shall always feel bereft.