Poetry Page: Two

                     Secret Of Ones Desire

As I sit upon this bench

I watch him take to the ice

His stick in hand

His lips purple from cold

I am taken by his appeal

As he shortens his distance 

I can see his breath but can not feel

He who covers the ice

I wonder what his touch would feel like

Oh how I desire him 

I who would give anything to look upon his eyes

To feel his hands

My desire for him is strong

My desire never changing

I who would give my very soul

To that which is without approach 

I hunger for what I know I can not have

I desire that which is desirable 

For one to be desired is to be loved

And for that he is

Eighth of great

Greatest of great