The sand flows over the cliffs
like the golden hair about her shoulders
Her skin, the petals of a cactus flower
soft to the touch, yet weathered to stand the elements
Her eyess, oasis blue
glinting and gleaming, water itself
deep reflecting pools of the soul
The curves of her body, the winding river
that cut and carved the rock, my loins
Her spirit is free, the last phantom maverick
never to be tamed
The laugh of hers
echos on the howling wind
of my imagination.


3 old applause
