Lovers' passions soar to awesome heights
And fall as far the instant, that the lights
Of adventure, seen distant down the road,
Bespeak a hint of hedonistic nights.
Faithfulness, like duty, isn't born or bred,
A matriarch must drill them deep, instead;
Or like a monarch butterfly in flight
The male flits off to see what's up ahead.
Never, once awing, will he look to see
From whence he came or where he wants to be,
Till he recalls the love left far behind
Amid the ruins of young dreams' debris.
No greater fool than he who walks away
From dreams with her, the future dared display
In panoramic certainty to be theirs,
If, hand in hand, together come what may.
Young mistresses attend this sage's feet,
Learn that the wildest stallion you'll defeat,
If bit and bridle fitted by you well,
Are used to tame his spirit when in heat!
--Don Juan de Feu
copyright 1999, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved