Red sea nights, an inlet in the Indian ocean,
skillfully knitted ricochets of the desert’s mist;
tell me, how do you stand still
under the amber silence of the sands?
Why don’t you storm out and
follow the colors of the moon and the waves,
when a khamaseen is about to be born?
There, in the malachite universe of our hearts
where darters and cranes no longer fly,
there, by the pillars of the pitch-dark winds,
lifeless, in oblivion sleeps your pristine fire.
Memories scattered with the ashes of the dawn,
obsolete love craving an ignition, red sea nights,
don’t ever forget the water lilies and the kisses.
©2013, B. T., All rights reserved