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O write me a verse for the amorous one,
Who would give his all, a love to pursue.
Such fervour is oft brief, swiftly undone,
And we question: can love ever be true?
Of grandiose gestures we are most fond
We plan them through the wee hours of the night
Hoping to fashion some passionate bond;
In her heart of hearts, ‘I’ her new delight.
But blind are we, love’s nature to perceive
In our quest the fair maiden’s heart to smite
For love is both to give and to receive
A devotion that to passion gives sight.
Love is not love that gives the heart away;
It will share it – more and more, day by day.
Wednesday 31st May, 2006, Cambridge
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Tags: Autobiography, Beauty, Poetry
