Mirage in an Hourglass

Into this place— distant in time and expanse,
Where chance brushed and then took the hand of romance,
Where the desert overflowed with lavish streams,
There in this place is where a man sees his dreams
In the heat of the night, and time of repose
When sleep has banished any that may oppose—
Enters a man carried on flashes of light
That transpose the mirage, made real, for the night.

The man takes her hand at the stream they prefer,
And in, and with the dream, things of dreams occur.
When their hunger peaks, they dine on fish and chips
But neither fills him as the touch of her lips,
Neither fills him as the scent of her perfume,
And all he wants is for the dream to resume.
In daylight, the oasis dries in the sun,
And he thirsts as the sand finishes its run.