Sandstorm

My feelings on this year.. By Karen Pilarski:

Warm, yellow particles

Whipping in air

Swirling through brown hair

Slaps my face like reality

Stings my eyes

Rubbed them red

But the sand like a bad decision remained instead

It blows around

In the middle of its current

I dance

Ocean like conscious cuts in

Water and sand coincide

I linger for a moment

Then drop off under the sun rise

Wind, whirling and whistling

Where do I stand?

When the sandstorm subsides?