I only wanted
what all men want:
to be thought worthy
by a lovely woman;
to hold her close
as a bundle of lilacs;
to inhale her
deep as a spring forest;
to undress her
with trembling fingers;
to touch her
like the skin of a saint;
to enter her
like a portal to life.

A woman is
sanctified by love;
her beauty is lifted
to the waiting sky.

She becomes:

wise and deep
as the falling peals
of church bells;
holier than Mecca,
Bethlehem and Jerusalem;
lovelier than the wildflowers
of a Tennessee spring;
lighter than
the gentlest breeze.

She does not fear lust,
for she has sacrificed
at that empty altar before
and has learned
from loss to make love
greater and more powerfully
than a whole generation
of Amazons.

And she manages
all these wonders
with a Mona Lisa smile.

But in the end,
you are still a woman
and I am still a man.

We will come
to understand
what to make
of each other.

Forgive me my desire;
it is all I can be.