Story of desire

No rain on the plains, no ice on the slopes,
no wind to disperse the longing for you
and the sun today seems to compete
with the internal heat of desire.

Desire rises up to the platform of cheeks
to await the arrival of cooling tears
but they don't flow now like waterfalls do
and the wait interminably hot.

Fan she does the heat with a vow
but of desire she knows to rebuff
its slow and insidious encroach
into her lacklustre consciousness.

But the force of desire like powerful lust
pushes through to the knowing inside
and lingers as if to make it known
there's a reason for its existence.

There is no reason, no purpose, no point,
but desire too stupid to know
time has run out like a train derailed
and it can't be carried on thermal waves
into the ether of a future life.

So the woman involved writes a few lines
to hang round the neck of desire
because one day it's bound to read
the sign that says it must leave.

"Read, read!" shouts a woman in need
but desire buries its head in the sand ...
and I hope it suffocates!