Golden Coat

Taken from a waterless home,
an infant blossoms to a flower.
From the hills of sand,
beneath golden flares;
The sky holds.
The winds throw a heavy blow;
Pulled the flower from its roots away from the desert.
It glides with its sandy pedals over its home,
And left behind billions of grains and specks of memories.
The infant sheds tears.
They fall from the pedal like ghosts of memories that soon will be forgotten.
It decent among strangers on a valley of infants.
Which does not look nor feel like home.
After tears and tears that floated the valley's trenches,
He wishes for it self to be turn back into gold.