The sands seduced 
   our feet 
      and licked 
         our souls
With greedy
   solar fingers
Steeped with 
   loneliness
      and freedom
From the gaze
   of urban
      scrawl 
         and vanity
With rippled dunes
   and shriveled air
We melted on
   horizons
      filtered
In the desert
   lair
Of brush stroked
   emptiness
And wind swept
   innocence

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr