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Pain in my belly and pain in my heart.
Tears in my eyes but my mind was clear.
Is it lost love, Richter asked?
No, I said. A broken heart? No.
Yearning for an absent love!
Richter’s expression was quizzical
but I was not feeling lyrical.
He probably thought this typical.
Young hearts and feeling magical.
Damaged love I sighed.
Not enough energy to give love a bly.
Missing love is damaged.
I watched Richter as he in his heart rummaged.
He knowingly exhaled having played this drummage.
Our emotions had been dyed in love’s war plumage.
We were veterans of love’s scrummage and
we surely had paid full homage.
Richter said, “How about a game of Scribbage?”
Sure I said, “Enough of this verbiage.”
The only leverage would be some strong beverage.
CI-537751458 Knight Truelove poems