She was made of gold in a city of dust,
She had a wicked fire, burning in her heart;
The only one created of that magical bust,
She did not know how precious she was.
She held on to a memory from the past,
He was oblivious of its presence;
He was scared if the magic would last,
Sleepless nights would testify.
He tried to savour those moments ,
For he knew they would be scarce;
Days flashing by like burning comets,
He craved that longing touch.
Demons from the past, still haunt his days,
Nights have now found a new tenant,
Sleepless as they were, in mystique ways,
Even his dreams are filled of that face.
For She was made of gold, in a city of dust,
And he was made the wind
Cursed to blow past her, if that’s just
To see to speak but never touch.