At the end…

You thought that love’s a bit like gold
Or like the stories you were told,
Or that true love is like the fire
That burns to make the night a liar.

You thought that love is like a thief
Who steals your linen handkerchief–
Or, like the lightening in the skies,
A mere electrical surprise

You thought that love would never come
Or’s gone too soon like pirates’ rum.
You thought that love had cheated you
You thought of love in all you owe.

You saw your love personified
In roses and in girls who cried;
In messages that never came
Or when they did were all the same.

And in the end you came to know
That love is just the to and fro
The rumpled sheets in bed and nest
From girls who loved you, but not best.

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