My Love Is a Palm Tree
My Love Is a Palm Tree
My Love Is a Palm-Tree
Who’s she?
A palm-tree lofty head to which the morning sun
first pays homage
before it falls
on earthly faces;
Who’s she?
A palm-tree shapely bosom where overnight dew
into manna grows;
Who’s she?
Twain palm-tree open palms
grace-fully fanned
for a homely hug;
Who’s she?
A palm-tree whose sweetest freshest sap
quenches my sirocco thirst;
Who’s she?
A palm-tree to whose sight
I owe my seeing;
A palm-tree to whose parts
I owe my all.
Tozeur, January 2002
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