Desolation in Tangiers

Desolation in Tangiers  
   
Golden tresses spindled like sunlit clouds  
Drift by me in the marketplace  
They ignite memories of a faraway place  
In Tangiers where once my rose glistened  
With pearls of dew born in desire  
   
She caressed my wrinkled body  
With fingers soft as rain  
And bathed me in her fountain of youth  
With rose petal hands  
She washed me in sunlight  
And combed the snowy hair  
On the roof of my head  
In our May December love  
   
My flower would lie on her casket  
Cherry blossom plucked in pink of youth  
Yet when I watch the women  
gather water from the well  
I see her face in every woman who dips her pail  
And long for her rosemary scent