friend poetry

with lips blood red and heart of stone
gone are the three, those sisters rare
i made a vow once, one only
stuff of the moon
still thirteen years
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
shades of night were falling fast
do you hear the rain?
the agony of having too much power
the body may confine
doubtless i remember still
the pale day drowses on the western steep
when i looked into your eyes