Creative

From my window in Dubai

A myriad lights,
cars rush, clinging
to black stripes in the sand.

Metal, tar, lights, cars,
the land is impressed to be a better place.

The patient desert, lying
almost at one with the sea,
once barren now quickens.

Strangers have to come.
There are too few otherwise
for all that needs to be done.

They come from many lands,
stay a while but have to return.
There’s no time to meld,
only time to work.