The palms seemed lovely, from far,
their fronds green and inviting.
Tempted, unthinking, I stepped out
to rest in the shady bowers.
Under paltry little puffs of clouds –
few and far in the vast blue skies.
Drink from the refreshing waters
of those imagined everlasting springs.
They were, of course, a mirage –
painted on the canvas of illusion.
And I ended up in hot, gritty sand
filling my nostrils, eyes and mouth;
wrapping me in their coarseness.
I wanted to turn back and run
but I had lost my way back home….