Desire — a poem
Published in
1 min readSep 30, 2019
She stretched out the palm of her hand
Now Desire’s gone, disappeared down the years
And I cannot tell if, without her, it is easier
Or harder for me to sing my song
Perhaps she has just taken a break
Packed her bags and gone to Spain
During this time of deep heart ache
That has left me without want or hope
Shall I too hop on a boat while
The jury’s out, everything in doubt?
Or did I, from the beginning, get it
Wrong, mistake that hand for something else?
When really it was Death itself
Not a smooth-skinned thing at all
Only the grim one’s bony claw
I may conclude that after all
I suspect she will be back some day
I kind of hope I’m still away
