The morning mistral
runs before the night,
caressing my face
with a lover's soft touch.
I close my eyes
and hear her whispered footsteps,
the gentle song of her passing,
the sounds of her
shimmering in the air.
The pungent smells
of the desert lea, lurking in fragile blooms
of the Saguaro,
recall her perfume.
The taste of her plays
on my tongue
as I inhale.
Before the eastern fire
can harshen the day,
the dawn's fingers of
soft light claim her,
lifting heavenward as she fades
in the brightening sky...
The rot of time
resumes again.
Sighing,
my day begins
with memory's embrace.
Prompt for: June 23, 2014
Subject or Theme: Desert, Jungle, Mountains, Plains, etc, (describe or tell a story about some natural terrain)
Word(s) to Include: Lurk, rot
Forbidden Word(s): (none)
Additional Parameters: Minimum 28 lines.
Line Count: 30
Form: Free Verse
mistral - a cold, dry, northerly wind
lea – a tract of open ground
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