Don't quest, like a hunter, for romance,
Pursuing prey, cunningly, to its lair,
Eyes stung by lust,
Quiver unslung to unleash arrows
Blindly, to win a heart.

At quests end, coveted trophies are lost,
Smothered to lose their free spirit,
Or flitting away, out of reach.

Is romance not a dance of equals,
Equally paced,
Equally poised,
Equally purposed?

Two hunted souls, warily learning trust.

The hunter often catches the prey,
And yet, still loses the game.