What was desert-reality

is fading away

in the foggy haze

of a dream.

What’s rising

is a little emerald oasis

of happy trees

where laughter

hangs like bunch of berries.

I have hunger-

I have thirst-

for I have been walking

in sandstorms since ages.

Yet they roam,

haunt the streets

to uproot dreams.




Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United