In the middle of nowhere, sits a heart, bloated with desert air,
A vagabond compass discarded long ago, forever lost in a drawer of dreams.
Each wandering grain, the itinerant flea, the gossiping lizard,
The sand-dusted crow.
All pay their rent with whispers.
Rain, the shy debutante at the ball,
Becomes the open gossip in a blink, confessing secrets to rocks,
While the sun, ever the preacher, roasts marshmallows of memory,
Aridity hobbles in like an old clerk,
And Dew, on stilts, tiptoes through lost love letters.
Hot flashes and frostbite\'s bite-sized sermons,
Wind, the madman, scribbling post-it notes to nobody,
The errant pages of vast untamed diaries.
This heart, a boundaryless theater,
Invites the lunatic extremes on stage, curtains always open.