don't require
don't push me dear
with your perfect symmetry
that fire lit in your wise eyes
to write the perfect poem,

I am immature
I just now desired the lushness
have not acquired the geniusness
quite now

I have desire an intenseness
the flame the spark
but not the reqirements needed
to match your brilliant flame

I try , god knows,
it may take a lifetime
to touch your depths the way I know
I need to

will you still be there
my flame my fire,
my desire?

When
quality catches up
to need?