Your touch

I fought a battle,

In the rain

And under the sun.

Drenched and burnt,

Yet remained unmoved.

Rooted in the soft sand

In the face of aggressive winds

And still not perturbed.

The eagle watched on,

As the roaring beast lurked around,

Graced by the hunter’s soaring arrow,

But I stood like the rock of Gibraltar

Only to be withered by your presence,

Turning me into a makeup powder

That has disappeared into your body,

At your touch.