Tuesday, September 4, 2007


Like a shimmer in the desert sun
That twists and weaves before the wind
And passes, once the day is done
I can not touch
I do not watch
All I do will turn to sand
The work I've done will meet its end
And blow like vapor 'cross the land
I am not here
I am Mirage

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

you surely a poet