And Finally

Strange yet, how we dangle from the slightest shred of hope
Those flimsy gossamer wisps that could not possibly support us
We who love yet are not loved by return
We whose sense deserts us

‘Twas ever thus as I remember, ever thus as I recall
Never trust something so slender as forlorn hope or surely fall
And landing hard across dark valleys
Learn nothing of your ways at all

Those of you that think you aid us by leaving us by small degrees
Throwing ever smaller punches, occasional soft words as these
“I still love you” “maybe” “someday”
Then disappear into the trees