Sands Of Time

going on like
watching a pot 
boil while 
dry lips are
licked seeking
moisture for 
a sand filled mouth
from a petrified
tongue
where be the
flood of wine
chilled and wet
caressing
slightly parted lips
searching deserts
of hearts
thirsting for
liquids cold thrust
oh to quench
this need 
to come alive
in sweltering heat
like a wilted flower
looking at a cactus
in a dirty mirror
wanton rain
please answer
the call of skin
pleading
for your moisture
lending your gift
of life
so all can grow
again...

-©Simone McLeod, September 1, 2013