A desert rubbed golden between cool swift fingertips
I have lived amid mountains as delicate as the burns in the tops of my hands
On the cut stone of concrete highway I'm asking where
Where have you lived and learned to love for all the reasons you thought you'd hate
Earth graced with the last brilliance of dying leaves escaping the frost
I'm asking you to stay in a place unfit for me, unfit for nomads and cold-blood
I've touched the ground golden and made it so and I'm hoping you'll stay
Long enough to learn to love to do the same