Like amateurs we stumble
Through our path of passions
The way clouded
By 20th century jargon
Weighing warmth
Against tabloid images
Of romantic perfection
Till at last "it" finds us
And the equation seems complete
For some that process takes years
While others find their other half
In the springtime of their yearning
But both, along the way
Collect scars
That once healed
Teach us better
How to love
The next time round