poem, poetry, Sonnet

Guilty Pleasures

Guilty Pleasures

Not dark chocolate, peanut butter or
anything edible; not silk or chrome
or anything tangible; no gold ore,
silver medallions or anything bone;
no banal evening guiltily indulged
in and gone; no apology whispered,
nor promise betrayed; no treasure divulged,
nor business deal skillfully maneuvered;
no bold deity that needs appeasing,
nor ancient text whose sight invites thieving–
True though all of those items are pleasing,
once had, they’re gone and that leads to grieving.
He takes his pleasures from things eternal,
whose use doesn’t reduce the original.

~ ~ ~

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “No Apologies” and “Hate to Love.”

16 thoughts on “Guilty Pleasures”

    4. Ah, so you are a party to the shallowness of the rest of us. Such a relief. It was a beautiful, poem, though, and something we call all hope to attain. Perhaps when we are so old that all the guilty pleasures fall away.

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