By poetwench@aol.com
Date: 5 November 1999

Seredipity Split

      I am not the sort
      they send flowers to---
      rather they tell me their sorrows,
      curse their bad luck
      or taste
      in matters of the heart,
      then depart in search of new perfect love
      identical to the lost one.
      
      So imagine my shock
      when two hearts were laid at my door,
      two spirits clamored for my time,
      two men determined to woo and win---
      and my disbelief
      at a situation I would have relished
      fifteen years ago---
      when I was young, smart, sassy bright
      and hoped for or expected such a tribute.

      I tell myself that I'm too old for this---
      long in the tooth, 
      long in the tale---
      but this giveaway flush that touches my face
      the ease that laughter comes with now,
      the quick staccato beat of a heart
      that's broken the slumber
      all call me a liar to my soul.