From where I stand,

Your face is soft and smooth like the desert sands.

Whose wind swept dunes roll through my mind hot and dry,

And the brilliant sun illuminates them through rose colored sky.

As the heavenly orb makes it's way,

It changes the colors with the light it sprays,

Upon the mesa and valleys that I long to explore,

With a tender hand,

Tired and sore.

In the distance a cloud,

So full of rain,

So full of hope,

So full pain.

Will it wash away sands,

Brush,

Rock,

Pain,

So I can feel the warm face again?