If books are correct and poets true
If readers heark to what they say
Then this is what they tell to you –
That love is like a summer’s day.
Now truth be told I must admit,
I’m troubled by this sentiment;
It seems simplistic, doesn’t it?
Belittles the predicament.
If summer days were fraught with rain,
And wavered between cloud and sun,
They might shed light upon the pain
That love deals out to everyone.
But they won’t tell you this, you see:
It doesn’t make good poetry.