Golden gates opened up,
To allow the luxury car,
That slided through the driveway,
Upto the great mansion,
A miniature replica,
Of The White House,
That stood on arid land,
As large palm and date trees,
Shaded the path, With no breeze,
And the humidity engulfed the living,
As it vanished inside the building,
And air-conditioners worked non-stop,
To cool the lives of the wealthy,
Once courageous nomads,
Who wandered freely in deserts,
In search of oasis sanctuary,
Now, oil hath changed their lives,
With Permanent Dependance,
On imported artificiality.