I scorned th’idea of uncondition’l love
as though love had a kind attached with price.
If love’s exchange expected, love’s not love,
‘tis but possession through desire’s device.
I strived to be a love’s magnan’mous giv’r
in spite of my emotion’s poverty.
My empty shell’s command I t’you deliv’r
hence you’ve deprived my frail heart’s liberty.
Like Mayfly knows not next day’s rain or shine,
this pauper fathoms not love’s loss or gain.
For the mere dream of losing you I pine.
I can’t conject the real life’s parting pain.
Though I still don’t expect your love’s return,
for e’en a “no” to end my woe I yearn.
2015/2
