Shifting Sands Poem by Bob Bowers

The soft breath of her voice
Caressed his cheek,
Like dew from a rose
In morning's first light.

Lightly, she turned her head,
Tossing her hair,
Resting her eyes on his,
In sweet shining glow.

In the closeness of the cloak of night
That wrapped them in its stars.
The beauty of that night
Would slip away.

Time brought the darkening flow of love's life gone.
Of comforting arms, as now
She walks alone the shifting sands
That melt beneath her feet.




10/24/98