It’s hard to love a woman
Not arithmetically or scientifically hard
But when she yearns for a lauded novelist
Yet my talents are of a bard
Might a third job be enough
that I may win your devoted sate?
An honest try, my all, I’ll give it
Why must you hasten my wait?
Only to close the velvet curtain
I’m the finalist on your courters’ stage
My beau performance proved just shy
Your criteria in full I couldn’t engage
Say, you had spelled it out in writing
A win-your-heart preface, a simple outline
Your mystery an honor I attempted to decode
A sincere no-thank-you is not unkind
Was there a selfish thrill from my efforts?
Did you consider flattery in my chase?
I swear, I’d do it all again, woman
to see my reflection upon your face
An unsad goodbye we’ll offer as settlement
no resentments, no strings, no tears
A love lost is greater than nary
The bard’s prophetic words he hears:
Perhaps you could have learned to love me . . .
. . . given time.
© 2013 Romance by Rg2®