At night we wander like interlacing
tendrils weaving the desert sand,
touching, entwining, your body
stretching to mine, tightening,
giving way, every ripple replicated
like the amber sand.
At Night the desert grows sweet,
we swim in the cool raindrops of dreams
where each breath is a verse.
A silent Oracle I write Arabesque on
the grain of your skin so when
you emerge at the red of dawn
you will remember.