From the vortex of sand, the dragon appears,
Born of the storm, a phantom of fears.
Golden scales shimmer, blending with dust,
Its body an echo of ancient, broken trust.
Wings like weathered sails, tattered and vast,
Flap through the gale with a terrible blast.
Eyes of molten gold burn in the heat,
Scorching the earth beneath its feet.
The sandstone cliffs crumble as it draws near,
Its breath a whirlwind of sand and fear.
Dust devils dance in its swirling wake,
As ancient ruins beneath it quake.
