Morocco

I dreamed that I saw you
once down in Morocco
Your clothes were so old
they were new
You spoke to the Bedouins
In their own language
Of silver and crimson and blue
They said that your singing
Had altered their vision
and yet nothing really had changed
The dust from the desert
rose up from your eyelids
You said you had conquered
the chains

The white wind around us
as we stood there talking
Was blowing the stars
from the sky
I said “make the beauty
you made long ago”
and the dervishes whirled
while you cried
You said “hold me against you,
the weather is calling,
My mind is the color of stone”
And I wrapped the green silk
around your thin body
And knew you would
never come home

Morocco

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