Oasis' Unfaithful Mirage Poem by Robert Rorabeck

A sea that never feels has drifted away,
Sad into the changing yards outside of the wharf-
And the lips who have tasted
The sangria underneath the orange blossoms have said nothing
As she slipping away,
Leaving the pebbles of her necklace as she retreated
Behind the rocks-
As if the sun boiled with the engines of her
Carriage,
Taking her from the walls of the civilization
That cried the tears that inevitably metamorphosed her
From a peasant to a queen
Until she thought so little of them that each one
Of them became as but a pearl to diadem her saturnine
Dreams- as she curled into the mirages that leaped
Into another shore, leaving only the stones
To marvel at the illusions that haunted the grottos
Of such an oasis’ unfaithful mirage.