For the Poet.

Not a lament

not this one

there will be no thoughts here

of callous lovers

lonely evenings

or sterile tears over someone’s parting.

No mention here

of empty promises

dreary liaisons

mournful trysts.

Rather I choose

that these lines celebrate my sense of self

intact

despite these things

my eagerness to give again

and to hell with the odds.

Let this one

revel in my resilience

my optimism

as I enter the breach once more

with expectations undiminished

awaiting surprises

fully expecting that love will one day

be all it can

and should be.