A Desire to Have Is Killed By a Desire to Be

And in a way I wish I were like you,
With thoughts so easy to cast aside,
Every morning is a morning of sparkling dew,
As the sun rises over the mountainside,

But then I remember that it’s 1am,
And nothing in front of your eyes is real,
And the sunrise soon won’t be for show,
And being you just loses its appeal.

© Saxon Drury-Godden 06