Mirage

A poem about secret longing

Ahead, arid air;
flowing waterfall,
drench the dry earth
with visions
like dreams.
                                                 
Nearer still.
Clearer sight
stripped of truth
takes shape:
a motled form of you.
                                                 
Reaching out
with both arms,
two hands grasp
to touch the intangible.
Through clenched fists
sand falls,
or water, or flesh:
reality dissolving to dreams.
                                                 
Ahead, arid air;
flowing waterfall,
drench the dry earth
with visions,
like dreams of you
too real
to be true.