Arab Woman on a Swedish Train

Her eyes drift open and close
as a silk veil in a desert breeze.

Outside, she sits with chilled cheek
pressed against icy glass,
bundled blonde blue eyes fill her world now

She is tired and her eyelids are slowing the cold
Her hair is black and skin olive
from generations of sun
and sand that reach to warm blue seas.

Inside she is warm, inside the desert
the sand is warm,
the breeze caresses her skin
and her veils drift

An ancient whispers into her ear
of the ways of the past,
the ways of the desert.

and she is warm

The train lurches to a stop
She awakes and can not
pull the cotton frilled scarf tight enough
to keep out the cold
of the concrete, of the blue eyes

A man weary from his toil
thinks of faraway,
watches the last burning red of the sun

March 28, 2009 3:59 PM