Makau

Makau, with eyes that have seen too much sun,

Stares at a hand, weathered and worn, but strong.

Aching reminders of battles outrun,

Fights where the victor hums a sorrowful song.

Time, like a savanna wind, whispers its claim,

Shifting the sands of memory's vast plain.

Scars, etched in flesh, forever the same,

But the rawness of feeling, a memory half-feigned.

A name, once a tempest that shook his frail soul,

Now echoes like whispers, a story untold.

The sting of betrayal, a tale to grow old,

Fades like the campfire's embers, turned cold.

Makau sighs, a dry rasp in the twilight's embrace,

The wound may not throb, but it leaves its dark trace.

Time, he concedes, with a wisdom hard-won,

Doesn't heal, but buries what can't be outrun.