I have wrung out my life
And left it to dry on the clothes-line of time.
From this detached vantage I can see it
In the Zephyr of an understanding smile.
Shudder and cringe
In the wind-chill of indifference...
Singe and burn
In the Shamal of barbed words...
And I wait patiently for the Haboob
To tear it off the clothes-line and
Set it free.