And she slipped away
and dripped away
more and more and
fingers that couldn't
stop her, trembled
"Who needs water anyway?"

The dried up throat
saw right through the ruse.

The mini stream trickled
and flowed down the dune,
shrinking in the heat
shriveling like the rose who
was neglected because she
grew too many thorns.

Her lovers never
saw past her fear.

The last drop of her,
remained in the sand,
grew smaller
and smaller,
then vanished
into thin air.

But the mirage
of the drop
still flickered
in his heart
and he dare not get
too close lest
it vanish too.

-Abdullah Alam