[Portage, September 9,
Shrinks tell us getting over love exhausts
[disappeared most unexpectedly]
like an excruciating holocaust
trail fraught with heart-mines difficult to see.
For years we fly along on fantasy
Always we imagine outcomes so fine
Of what the secret love can dare to be
But love like wine can sour over time.
Reality has a way of asserting one day
That without action taken most firm
Circumstances will send true love away
Leaving only shadows of love’s old germ.
Lovers always assume time gives them room
Blinding them to challenges as they bloom.