If love were as moist soil

With flourishing plant life,

Growing tall and beautiful,

And if her lips were the dew

I awoke to each morning,

I’d be, In The Dust.

If her hair were a shower

Which covered my face,

And refreshed the air,

And her eyes were as puddles,

I could gaze into and see my reflection,

I’d be, In The Dust.

If her body were the stream

I used to swim in,

And cover my body relaxing

With waves passing calmly

Over my neck, touching my chin,

Not splashing, but softly bouncing,

I’d be, In The Dust.

Yes, if love were these things,

Caressing my body and mind,

Comforting, soft and sweet,

I’d be dying of thirst,

In The Dust.

 

(c) Rick Wyman