One brown beauty stands atop of the barren hill,
The boiling sweat and toil swirls around its head and through its mind,
gazing at the stream which trickles and giggles down the worm’s throat.
A warm haze, voluptuous and loving, struggles to make it past the dead and dirty ruins of a long forgotten moment’s peace.
Mud and sweat embrace as the brown beauty slides down the barren hill, ready to burn within the sour sands.
Dusty candles stand alone in the window and rusty fires wrap themselves around your warm presence.
Till tomorrow brown beauty,
Sleep in the sands beneath the trees.
Rise again, when tomorrow forgets its dreams.
Until then, sleep awhile.