#9 precisely cut

I — never truly meant
to liken her to a desert.
Yet much like that barren land,
she hides her beauty beneath silence —
a beauty only weary travellers
and children of the sand ever notice.

The desert never stays the same
from day to night.
By day, she is dazzling, harsh,
the sun glistening on her skin;
the arid air turns even the quenched
to thirst again.

But the desert at night is different.
Cold, cautious, dangerous —
yet honest.
She watches more closely in the dark.

Have you noticed?
In the night, the veil thins;
the stars are sharper,
the moon more certain.

It is her eyes —
yes,
her eyes.

By day she allures with oasis and mirage,
but at night it is she
who is allured —
drawn toward wonder,
toward the world,
toward you.

And I still cannot believe
that she, with all this beauty,
walks the world unloved.

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