It was not your figure. For all that time, your voice was enough to carry me through the blinding desert sands, and the wind that thrust them into my eyes; made my vision hazy and your figure I could barely see.

It was not your body's curves, though hard to deny even in a dark night, but your gentle touch. The teasing itch it created on my skin, I am yours.

In these Arabian sands my love, I see you not but I know you're near. Saunter forth, your hips towards me.

Find your way to me my love. It seems the winds have conspired to stay with you. It seems the dust wants to keep me from you.

Let me sing your beautiful name until we meet again. Follow the freedom of the winds, until your blues meet my browns.

IbraTSM