Little Prince’s Whisper

There are no flowers in the desert, 
only windswept dunes, they say;
fields of burning sand 
and drought spread out like wildfire. 

Yet I heard the Little Prince whisper 
of a rare bloom’s precious beauty, 
born from an enchanted cactus spine 
by an oasis where waters 
like the silver moon shine 
and fairies dance all night

Softly, in the secret language 
of petals and thorns, 
it whispered to him: 
“Do not miss the sunset, Little Prince, 
for miracles await”

sunsets spilling over golden sands 
and flowers dreaming in the desert’s hands.

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