love is a universal migraine,
a bright stain on the vision
blotting out reason.

symptoms of true love
are leanness, jealousy,
laggard dawns;

are omens and nightmares -
listening for a knock,
waiting for a sign:

for a touch of her fingers
in a darkened room,
for a searching look.

take courage, lover!
could you endure such pain
at any hand but hers?