When I was a child

I always wanted more.

Naturally.

Give me one sweet, I asked for two.

Inevitably.

Always one more . . . or

As much as I could get.

Like politicians taking bribes,

A gambler with a win,

Lovers being kissed,

A sinner willing sin,

Like me still most of the time,

Just a stretched arm and a hand . . .

And then there are times like this,

When what keeps the sun lit,

Clouds rain-ready,

Each breath breathing,

Stops my reach and reaches me,

Teaches me . . .

The More I so desperately want

Is the love behind the call —

Never to be achieved or held,

Giver and gift once got

Is all . . .