Memories slip on the silent back of the dunes
those shape-shifting sands
are treacherous you see
as they promise you an eternity
till the next whiff of the fleeting wind
that catches their attention
and dancing and glimmering in the
hot sweltering heat of the sun
they morph,
and mold to please
the voluptuous calls of the breeze
echoes of the silence,
bouncing back for eons
hopes for the company
the scorched backs of the dunes
are then soothed by the shifty-eyed moon
which bathes them with their
silvery moonlight
secretly wishing to rest in the
warm bosom of these dunes
but come morning
it gives in to the aubade of the
the warm clasp of the wind and
there it goes
following the wind
in a wink
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