Desire dies before fed.

As a boy I had had a desire

Of owning a trade game

Like the one my neighbour had.

With no recourse to buy it,

I collected boards and art papers

To make a copy of that game.

Collections took a few years by when

I had outlived the desire.

No game; no regret since then.

At seventy I nurture a desire:

To publish books of my poetry.

Finding means and resources

Has swallowed many years.

I’m afraid it would out grow the desire

And it would meet the same fate.

Each desire lives, starves and dies

Before fed, leaving no regrets..

07.07.2011.