It was always the curve of her pink lower lip,
Never how artfully she departed her satin slip,
That made me love her forever and more;
Now I cannot see her, denied entry through her door.
Another ring tells of her other-chosen heart
Announced with a gold band of the true jeweler’s art.
My sad claim is that once I knew her when,
But now it’s never ever to see her again.
Choices, poor choices always abound
That smash us thoroughly into the ground.
We long to see beyond today’s horizon
Instead our eyes just cry on and cry on.