O David, stop measuring the desert flowers
How long will the marigolds be measured by your fine veins?
The storm is whimpering for you, and a little rain
On a barren land yearning for you to return,
How long will the lilies be measured by your fine veins?
The Orange Globemallows are not burning in the sun, but in your fire.
Listen to the estranged Cactuses, David.
They carved your fine veins with warmth, water, and red.
Hardy, woody, and lovely they are!
How long will you protect them from your fine veins, David?
Suraya Akter prefers short poems; everything she writes is a draft except her poetry.
