Bacon by Cory
A great desire has grown so fast within,
That I am very eager to stomach;
At such a luckless hour did it begin,
And seconds never slower do they tick.
The auburn streaks of dusk’s slow falling sky
Had given my free mind a reckless thought,
To wander through untidy lightless sty
To where desire’s arms wish that I were caught.
But rather I expect desire part ways
To just replace my hunger with a bore;
Instead the horror is that desire stays
And that fulfillment is not held in store.
No greater joy could be than if I came
To find desire upon a morning flame.