Object of Desire



My dreaming mind is shaken by
A yearning lust for pleasure -
An all-consuming drive to find
Your precious inner treasure.

I push my way through gathered crowds,
As thick as Autumn leaves;
I con my way toward the gate,
Outwitting seasoned thieves.

Steadfast guards stand in my path,
Weapons drawn and ready.
I challenge each without a thought,
And slay them sure and steady.

The giant gate takes all my might
To unlock and force wide.
I forge ahead into the palace,
Excitement speeds my stride.

The maze of halls confuses me,
My left becomes my right.
I backtrack countless times until
Your chamber makes my sight.

I lean against the door to hear
But one and only sound -
The soft sound of your dreaming breath,
As colored sights surround.

The door resists my first attempts -
Its locks hold tight and true.
I kick and beat relentlessly;
My hands turn black and blue.

Frustration grips my very core;
I blink tears from my eyes -
Tears of painful longing torture,
Dropping from the skies.

And as my beaten body surrenders
To the unyielding door,
The heavy teak wood buckles under,
And thunders to the floor.

I crawl across the threshold,
As fatigue claims my might.
I catch a glimpse of the You I Love,
Rushing to me in the light.

My body, bruised and broken now,
Crashes to the ground;
I hear the slowing thunder of
My aching heart pound.

Your soft touch on my cheek awakens
Slumbering lifelong surges:
To know your beauty intimate
And satisfy my urges.

Through blurry, blinking eyelids
I see your sweetest smile;

I rest in peace, knowing well,
It was worth each fighting mile.



Don L. Waddell, 1996