Every touch, every glance, every smile brings
such innocent, pure, thrilling joy, you
fly high over the mountains, a cloud
of hope for the desert, bringing
teardrops and lightning. I'm a cactus,
drinking you in.

You shudder and tremble with
every astonishingly massive wind gust like
a tree that sweeps me away, willow
angry branches whipping my face
with shame, hurtful and desolate, When you
brought the storm, your fault

I fell so hard and scraped my
palms and knees so many times, over and over
trembling with the ground in a quake
laying my flowers that I bought
my own work, I dug and rooted, onto
your pitiful grave.

Joining the throngs of people to wish
you well, goodbye, a safe
journey ahead, please, and the thunder rumbles
and the lightning cracks, and each
and every rain drop falls on your majestic body,
quenching your thirst for life and
reviving, with a joyous thrill once again, you
awaken and smile and I'm happy.

Until you frown and decide I'm not a well, too cactus
to pour into, and you pat my cheek, a child
in search for another magical creature
who can make the rain.