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In the Desert

Wind picks up
swirls the fine-grained sand
that seeps through long days
hourglass mode
outside the boundaries
of a busy world
life crawls under
a blistering sun
the drums of isolation
beating time with the breeze
blazing sunsets shine over
craggy faced rocks
thirst that needs quenching
and in the middle
of this silent-filled sand mirage
as the evening sun casts low
and the desert color
breathes new color into the soul
a lizard pauses
to consider us
nobody around
for miles and miles
as my scarf blows
through the wind
like a wilted movie star
and we go waltzing
through the cactus
oblivious to harsh reality
or the sweltering heat…
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Published inpoetryPoetryWest

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  1. I am very glad this isn’t a desolate desert, Lana. You have someone to go waltzing with, unless this is a mirage? Smiles, Robin

  2. Beautiful and lovely imagery. I was about to say your love of deserts comes across very strongly when I just saw your comment above. I love
    ‘as my scarf blows
    through the wind
    like a wilted movie star’.

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