Lost Princess Poem by Roy Ballard

A desert prince set on a hill
a pleasure palace for his bride.
The scents of araby hang still
on ruined walls, on every side.

With oils of violet and rose
he had them knead the pliant clay.
Laid here were bricks with tuberose
and there with lillium they lay.

The window sockets gape in air
with essences of long ago.
With orange flower and lavender
and narcissus the four winds blow.

A moment lingering they steal
a trace of scent but leave it there,
these vagrant winds, remembering
that she preferred the desert air.

They stay a moment and restart
their endless journeys round the earth;
they whisper of a prince's art
that failed to hold a woman's heart.