How exquisite this breath,
Drawn deep through keen ache,
How poignant this desire,
Within this dream I would make.

Hair of gold captured rays of sun,
Lips of red sweet fruit of obsession,
Eyes of blue deep pools of delight,
Limbs of grace gentle cradle of passion.

How excruciating this craving,
Veiled inherent within my breast,
Your apparition swirls clouds my mind,
Thus finding me again wanting at best.

You are the tingle I cannot rub,
You are the wine I cannot sip,
You float through my transparent soul,
Toward melancholy I slowly irresistibly slip.

Am I to learn something from this sting,
To want someone so piteously so badly,
To desire them so that it haunts every fiber,
Or is this one of life's questions unanswered sadly.

In reflection of life the tender refrain,
Given a choice of uncanny echoes of faceless names,
Would it have better to have not known this ache this pain,
I think not for life without it would not have been the same.

S. L. Keck
2/19/2003

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