One day
I will look on your world
With great fondness
Too long
Have I held my breath
Against the terrible monotony of time
Marching this unforgiving carcass
Across the sand
I am tired
Weary
Aging
My youth has forsaken me
For the fading promise of tomorrow
She has born little fruit
I will go into the desert again
The sun will come to my skin
A lover that has been waiting
To kiss me with passion
To touch
Has it been forty years
Or only a moment
The figs will dry to anjeer
Or perhaps it is only a mirage
There is nothing tangible here
Beyond the sand
And she
Slips all too easily
Through my fingers