In the chill of the mist
we walk on the almost deserted way.

I have little to say
being filled with her beside me
and she breathes the wind in
as our lonely world spins.

Sometimes we touch as we walk
prompting her to look at me
with a veiled smile across her face
when the walk seems sweeter than happiness.

The date trees are brimming with juice, she says
the pots will be filled in no time, I affirm,
some farther and we will be there.

Something akin to love
brews with the nectar.