A sumptuous feast adorns the table
Of those lucky few whom love has found,
Their hunger for love more than satisfied
By a banquet leaving them spellbound

What rejoicing spills from starving hearts
When love's elixir is first tasted;
They feast with a voracious appetite --
Then beg more, with not a drop wasted

They walk the ripe orchards of passion
As the sweet fruits fall into their hand;
The bounty is one to be coveted,
The harvest is nothing short of grand

But the lonely hearts stare longingly
Into the forbidden dining hall,
Hiding in shadows, they scour the floor
For any sustenance that might fall

But all they find is bread and water,
And as the banquet hall's vacated,
The lonely linger, still searching for scraps,
Their hunger for love goes unsated

Cautiously they rush the cellar door,
Anticipating what they may find --
Most likely, just a bit of rotting fruit,
Blemished, with worm holes scarring the rind

But should this not be deemed a blessing?
Though it may be seen as meagre fare,
Is not a morsel of discarded love
Better than the cupboard that lays bare?

Bread and water found by the lonely
Is the banquet upon which they feast;
Ravenously they feed on scraps of love,
Like the bone flung to a starving beast

So bring your alms of bread and water,
Take pity on these wretched losers;
Though often they dream of a royal feast,
Beggars of love cannot be choosers