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came across this somewhere online, just wondeed if anyone knew who wrote it?
I've faced it then have I? I suppose I have. The magical answer to the cannonball question "what do you really want?" I have want, now I want the have, the touch, the hand, the real, the feel of the same leg cast easily over mine for a decade of winter mornings... for two decades... or three... that same leg flung over me, the same smile. A sameness. I'd love that. I've tasted the hors d'oeuvres, nibbled at the cakes, the pies, tasted all the lies of liberty and free. Who sold me that? I want mine back, the savage sweet of same and same and same again - the same sweet man to share a life of love and have and same with me.
Life with its odd endings and beginnings, its occasionally very painful middles, its riddles, its surprise hellos, and at times astonishing adieus, its greens, its greys, its reds, its blues, its flowers which come like sunbursts on a gloomy day, given by a man you barely know. Life, with its rare gifts, its strange charm, its strong arm, its vast sass, its more than occasional boot in the ass, its blunt pain, its bleak rain, its sorrow and its grief... is somehow all too brief, like a cinderella ball, so deck the halls, put on your shoes, your furs, your minks, don't shrink, put your tiara on, step out, prance high, chin up, dance nigh the flame with eyes aglow, and above all, dear friends, before you go, before it ends, and there remains no further tale to tell, dare once...twice...often if you choose, but dare, yes, dare to love, and if you do, make sure that you love well. For love is worth it all, is worth a call, a dream, a scheme, a sleepless night, a carriage ride, or crossing half the world, for a glimpse, a touch, a truth... for love is youth, is fun, is grand... a carnival... an opera ball.... For truth to tell, Love is Life... and Life is Love... and Love is All.
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are asleep 
You really are a sweetie hippo despite your vast attempts to hide it