THE TIMID GIRL

Sadly, I’ve seen what people pass for love,

in mortal combat as two egos shove,

wanting no more, no less, only to vie,

“Be only mine” – “No, you be mine – or die!”

Did I not wait all day, week, month, year long?

down the soft path to hear strides firm and strong,

a figure nearing from the far blue haze,

with a fine heart, and heartfelt smiling ways.

Of my own kind of love I dreamed, alack,

not draining life away, but life imbuing.

I dreamed so restlessly, impatient, ruing,

awoken with a start, taken aback.

It’s barren, late. Daunted, my way I go,

along the path, toward the sunset glow,

for I have seen revealed in grey trail dust

not what love is, but what for love they’ve passed.