I grow tired of love poems
battered hearts that often fall
lost among the songs of pity
love that wasn't there at all.
Love's illusion - cast on air
that settles for a while, then flees
and is carried somewhere else
to other distant lands and trees.
It dies as fast -  as it is born
brief, quick, without much charm
causing sorrows once again
leaving  residues of harm.
Leave it lying on the ground
where scattered leaves gather
where feet will ***** it down
and it no more will matter.
Let the remnants fade away
let the meager moments die
washed away with summer rains
let the love that once was...lie.