His lamp was incensed with
The essence of his presence
Of aromatic herbs that dressed
The broken exit and entrance.
Years upon millennia dashed the walls,
The sight of chalk had turned bitter
In a mind that dreamt for sweeter
But cinnamon savour could not save the sour.
Wishes granted but never his own
He was left, forgotten in a sea of sand,
Aladdin swore he’d save him
But what he wished was underhand.
A genie he is no longer.
That weaved a lifespan –
Trapped in perpetual sombre,
He is left a broken man.
by Steven Halinski