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A hunger grows,
it’s coming near.
With a taste of love,
and a touch of fear.
It is calling us,
can we not hear?
This beast gets stronger
year after year.
It wants to feed,
it knows it must.
It aches to break
it’s bonds of trust.
Is it a lie, a sham,
a truth that’s unjust.
Or something as simple
as animal lust.
It calls out softly
with dulcet tones,
In whispered purrs
and gentle moans.
Sometimes it screams,
sometimes it groans.
But it laughs as it dances,
round it’s lair of cold stones.
It’s scent is sweet,
it’s lure is strong.
Shall we dare let it enter,
where it doesn’t belong.
Or surrender together,
in passion headlong.
We should try to fight it,
we should kick up a fuss.
But the beast senses victory,
because the hunger’s in us.
OWH
October 9, 1997