They found the cold north wind,
hunched up behind the icy wall;
blowing on his hands to stay warm,
aching for the caress of his lost khamsin.

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Do they whisper in your ear,
the sky and the wind,
when you question them out there;
when you ask about trust,
about enduring love,
do they lay their secrets bare?

Don’t leave now,
though I can see
the tide is reeling you in;
Don’t listen to them,
they perjure themselves,
the elements too are in sin.