Uluru

Olive-coloured hairs,
Poking out of a skin-coloured fire, 
On a background made of sapphire,
An eye looking harshly, a bright glare.

A rock as old as history, 
Making its origin a mystery.
A mountain that’s treeless.
A place, not meaningless.

Though it towers over a dozen busses.
No one came close to being its cousin.
No one can cross the line,
Climbing it would be illegal.

Living near it were people.
Seagulls to the ocean,
But more like; desert eagles.
A natural phenomenon of Australia.