There are those who grow young in the desert
Soft blooms with the wind in their sun strands of hair.
They shift the fine sands with bare feet found in wandering
across valleys and hills strewn with life, gilt with heat.
the moon's thin rays reach down to fade through the lashes
of eyes ringed with colors describing a soul.
There are those who grow young in the desert.
There are some who the deserts call home.
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