Romance Found by S. Akers How sad the story, Would it be, If the Prince ran forward, With no glee. No love for her, No victory or vim, No true Love won, For her or him. She sees his heart, Cold with a shiver, Scarred with bolts From Cupid’s Quiver. The Warm of Romance, Forgotten alone, Trampled by monsters That say, “just bone.” Every touch, a slight, that retraces the pain, Of empty victory For his long-lost dame.
Take rise young knight! Your Passion is True! Try Again, Try Again! She may be for you. Give her your best, And although you might falter, Ride on for forever, Your love is no halter.
Swipe Right! Young Lass! Your Romance is Waiting, Better a loving fool, Than alone masturbating.