Love, thou avouched, was blind and fantastic;
It stayed, thou said, despite heading too far.
That day thy speeches wondrous, bombastic
suggested love when kindled broke each bar.
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Thou fell for a lad as young as thy son,
knowing quite well he may not love thee back.
‘Oh! In love fine all!’ thy sung in the sun
whilst I kissed thy lips, my seat a black rack.
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Thou smelling me that night did moan, cry, laugh.
‘Love’s too blind, love’s fantastic,’ thou bellowed.
Do thou recall what I said ’bout thy calf?
My words that night did make thou calm, mellowed.
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But today I see a difference in thee,
What thou said ’bout love was true to a tee.
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