in my brief hunger

she is a long night’s work

of affections much abused

and adventures so missed

their presence is preoccupation


that rare angelic sweet

cast of a harlot’s mold

whose extraordinary endowments

exceed those perceived by the simple senses


and I love to miss her

to sip the anticipation

of promises left on my lips

by the taste of this uncommon candy


to revel in what was

with thoughts of what will be

each of my desires enriched

by the ever present seed of reflection


no modern messaging

no text or streaming video

can substitute for this daydream

or the fairy tale it revives


I want to wonder of her

to know speaks, but not hear

to know she smiles, but not see

to know she loves, and thinks of me


so, for a little while

leave me to my appetite

for if this passion be its effect

I am content in my brief hunger



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