"Wind Fear

'Someday,' you said,
'I shall go
Quietly as to bed,
Leave off my body
As I leave this dress,
And my beautiful hair
Instead of your hand
Shall know the caress
Of the fingers of sand,
Someday.'

So one day
You went
When the weeks of wind
Were spent
And three stars
Had come over the dune
Ahead of the moon.
Unto the desert you left
The delight of your flesh,
And your beautiful hair
To the creeping despair
Of the sand,
As you planned.
Only this you forget
And are not
For all of your strategy
Free.

That the fingers of sand
May uncover
Your beautiful hair
To your lover,
That your delicate bones
May lie here
Ad his eyes not see
You there
And his hand not know the dust
That was your hair."

--Eda Lou Walton, ibid

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