And once again, I linger. <br />Dark is the night <br />in Southern lands <br />but finding it, unerringly <br />is what the gods decreed <br />will be unalienable, just for me <br />a right that sprang from lust <br />and fleeting pheromones, <br />I brought him, Mr. Wilkinson <br />the only one to trust, <br />he smiles upon achieving it, <br />a work of art so plain <br />that it is overlooked by most <br />perhaps without tradition <br />from pasts when one denied <br />one's own desires in the heat <br />of dull and hopeless nights. <br />Uh, uh still rings so true <br />and when it comes, this special day <br />my very last, I shall demand <br />the answer from the vicar or the Pope, <br />I need to know before I go, indeed <br />if God has given either even one small taste.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-night-is-black-my-friend/
