This poem popped into my head as soon as I saw the prompt. I wrote it almost 20 years ago when I first started writing poetry and everything had to rhyme. What on earth I was upset about, I have no recollection. Maybe nothing since I remember that winter in Bradenton as being a really pleasant one. Maybe I was just exercising my poetic license to be dramatic.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My heart is a part of the desert.
My soul is a hole in the sand.
My cares and affairs are all shriveled
suppressed by this desolate land.
My need is the greed of the thirsty.
My wants are the haunts of the mind.
Desires are spires of longing
elusive, delusive, and blind.