Love is a pitcher full of wicked curves.
She’ll tease you with a hanging powder puff,
Then brush you back till you’re nothing but nerves
And challenge you to hit her fastest stuff.
Love is a batter who will swing away,
And he’ll strike out so many times before
He ever gets to first, but that’s okay:
He only needs to get one hit to score.
Love is a day game played by night game lights
Where one side loses so that both can win—
And though there may be errors, fouls and fights,
I’ll do my best to meet them with a grin
When to your heart my heart is gamely hurled
With all the longing of the lonely world.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells