I am but clay in your hands.. My master potter
Mould and pat me to the shape ..the softness you desire,
Pliable …surrendering to the powerful hands of my potter
Whither it is joy or pain , your will… my desire
Hold me, work me. spin me in your destiny wheel
Till my muddy muddled mind becomes all heart
Bake me in thy heat, where your warmth I feel
Till I willingly set to the shape of your heart
Please.. is all I have to say ..as I feel
In the Medina of Marrakech, beware
There are street hawkers peddling their ware,
The snake charmers and the henna artists..
All wooing the curious naive tourist..
Like the crafty playboy of your teens, love or desires
Who promises a lifetime and gives you a fake moment..
These hawkers promise the panacea to all desires,
Yet the tourist.. she loves it all, living in the moment ..
Knowing they are cheats, she still naively gives in..
The joy of surrendering to foolish desires ..
Even if you know you are an idiot goin in
There are pink flamingoes
Pink Flamingos that fly
Fly in middle eastern deserts
They thrive the harsh and the cruel
.. our love.. a pink flamingo