The bright lights’ dazzle
no longer charms me.
The fast city life I loved
is but a momentary high.
I long to feel your warmth
beneath me,
To see your arms reach upward
Against a red and orange sky.
I yearn to feel your desert heat
fade into evening coolness,
To burn my finger
on a shooting star,
To hear “I love you” echo in the canyon
(am I being foolish?)
When I’ve seen you only from afar.
How can it be you mean so much to me,
When all I know of you
is what I see or hear.
Within your borders
my soul waits to be set free.
Arizona how is it
you’ve become so dear?

Published in Arizona’s “Now Magaine” Oct 1987

Pat’s Peeve: How many of you have cut your hand trying to open a blister pack of scissors?

One response to “Arizona

  1. Pingback: Arizona, another poem by our “Who’s Who” poet… « Livin' Italian

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