Originally written as a snippet for Missives and then expanded.
I reach for the ewer of water, I hope to quench the heat. I beg for yet another serving, I hope to fill my need. The water — cool — cools not Without thy merry presence. The food fills, passes, is gone — Yet leaves me empty, yearning. Though the heart may quicken — Though the tongue may lap — I shall sup no greater meal Than thy gift entrancing.