STUFFED

STUFFED

Down

and

out in

Timbuktu!

Camel train awaits.

Cross the Sahara in a month,

trade in salt and dates.

For fifty dollars, he’ll take us two

tomorrow, we’ll be tempting fates.

We dream

of days spent riding, like Lawrence,

and sleeping in tents,

learning Berber ways.

Rosy veils and amber hues, shifting shadows sashay

in the artist’s eyes,

and star-brilliant nights

under desert skies.

This call to adventure is at a bargain price. My friend clearly wishes to go there.

He talks of a town

of fabled, scholastic glories,

of gold,

slave-traders,

mysterious, magic stories.

Thickening

sand,

covering civilizations,

mud brick walls and houses of stone,

ancient markets, covered faces,

awesome sights

unknown.

An outlandish place is Timbuktu,

steeped in faded, past glory.

Who would say no to adventure like this?

A chance at a wonderful story.

A light went on somewhere inside my head.

OK for a guy, but a woman?

Too risky by half,

time to

fly

home.

Leave him to

write on

his

own.

VGOW                                                                                    23/08/17