We lost each other
in the way of sandstorms -
as the sand rose,
swirling and stinging.
You begged me to wait,
and I did,
hoping for your touch.
Yet, the moon rose and
the storm broke and
a new path appeared.
Years later
after the storm had ended,
and we let each other see
only dull sand-scratched eyes
instead of the oases
we fell into.
I promised you a card
from a trip abroad, and
if I had known
the postcard would have
gotten lost...
I would have told you
I still love you.