Sand Dunes

A gust of wind rushes angrily over the mountains,
As dunes spew sand into the air,
The unsettled earth calms itself,
Falling back down in a heavy sigh,
It remains lost, it remains lost.

The sun lowers its veil,
Darkness embraces the soul,
The night is tranquil save for a long howl,
The cold creeps in like a predator encircling its prey,
It remains lost, it remains lost.

She runs along the stone walls,
Her bare feet shuffling silently over the cracked ground,
They have arrived, men and their mounts,
Shoulders burdened with bows, hips with swords,
It remains lost, it remains lost.

It is time now she tells herself,
Floors above the old man fights death,
Dainty fingers wrapped around a hilt,
She leads on the magnificent steed,
"I will get it back, I will get it back."