Why shouldn't I possess a private eagerness,

an anticipation all of my own,

Such that it crams every corner of my soul.

And I had sworn I would never again open the door

Of my senses to any outward appeal.


But I have not kept that vow

and this dismays me.

Even though I again have tasted

The tangible loveliness of life,

Seen colours as pristine as the

beginning of life and love.


Passion or compassion? I can't tell.

My heart and soul rushed to take it in.

But you have given me a gift,

And in that giving you have honoured me.


I have found the grace, the sense of worth.

And these new things have wiped away the hurt.

Because I don't have you in my arms
The nights pass slow.

But you are the soul of my nights
Its darkness is my foe.
And remembered images
Are dismembered, like shredded pages.

But my days are full of joy.
They give me the strength
That the darkness can't defy.

And I have never held your hand - nor you mine.
Though I brushed your cheek - one time.

Yet your glance
Makes my heart dance,
My stomach churn, in giddy turn,

And this tightness in my throat,
Inspires this simple poet.

Yet these feelings frighten me,
I fear to lose your friendship.
I fear the loss of the light
That you have shed on my dark places.

For you have made me what I will become.
And because I don't have you in my arms
The nights pass slow.