poem on need

I am tired.
Weariness is in my bones
the decay of time imprinted on my heart
like grimy fingerprints on clear glass.
And eight hours of sleep bring no rest.

I hunger,
not for food for the aroma of choicest meat,
bouquet of sweetest wine
I find revolting:
the void keeps on widening...

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Sometimes we hunger for food for the soul. Food for the spirit. Not the physical kind but that which we truly need in order to have our hearts lifted and to make our eyes shine once again. Deep inside we know what we truly need we just have to extend our hands with our very heart open to give away. Love this.

[Mary C]

Very nice poem