Poemetry: A Glass of Salt in the Desert

Grains of sand speckle my lips.

Parched and panting, praying for water,

in the white sun, growing hotter.

I dream of you and dream of ships,

both passing my out reaching hands,

seizing only the burning sands.

Stare at me and spy no fault,

but of me you cruelly think,

offering me no sip nor drink,

refusing even a glass of salt.


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