It abides.
Swimming ‘neath the skin,
A wrinkle in the cassock,
A creeping urge to sin.
Saliva on a wicked tongue,
A flicker in the light,
A collar button come undone,
Soft sniggers in the night.
Some name it drive,
Some cast it cheat,
Some call it wanderlust,
But all, at times, will hear its voice,
In that much,
You can trust.

Bryson Thomas