There’s no fun in joining in
but what’s the point of staying out?
Every cliché in the book
has been tossed, bandied about.
Every shadow, every smile
which has flitted on her face
he’ll remember and attempt
on his heart’s parchment to trace.
She spelled wonder, enchantment, light,
the earthly pull of love divine.
But arms enchain, roots entangle,
metal corrodes on every sign.
Better safe, better far,
diminish your attention span.
She promised so much:
He ventured forth leonine man,
Came back worn to bone
Insignificant also-ran.
findingtimetowrite 