THIRST
Silver strips of light befall
The furrow of her brow;
She dreams on, unaware that
Technology is now her raft.
I bend as if to kiss her again,
And secretly
Drink deeply of her scent
One more time.
She stirs, unknowing of
The depth of love
Being poured on her this
Moment.
If the morning comes again,
I shall rise and bathe
In her being once more,
Thankful for another day.
--Charlie Gould*
*"Works and plays well with others, and does not eat his young."
©1998 Charlie Gould