www.original-wit.net © 2017 by Steve Taite

The Desert

In the middle of the desert, all on her own,

I thought I saw a blue eyed blonde, hiding behind a stone.
 

In the middle of the desert, I seemed to hear her call,

And I wondered if there still was time to stop her endless fall.
    
 

Or maybe it was just a mirage of years ago gone by.

A haunted desert memory that wouldn’t say goodbye

And the sands of my desert linger on.

 

In the middle of a sandstorm, I thought I saw her smile

I moved a little closer, she retreated a mile.

By the trail of a caravanserai, I caught up with her tracks.

I threw her all my passion; she returned they were not facts
.

Maybe they were just lost longings of a time I never knew,

Poems and songs and words that went wrong when experiences were few

Still the sands of my desert lingered on.

 

In the middle of a lifetime’s waste I thought I saw her appear

In a moment she was gone again, yet I didn’t think it queer.

For a moment in the desert I thought I saw a face.

But on looking back I knew for sure I’d seen it in some place.

 

Maybe in a mirror, that was hanging upside down.

The reflection of loneliness, the expression of a clown

And the sands of my desert still linger on.