Is life then
but a needed purge
after  the deluge
of a thwarted urge?

Why did I permit
my love to perch
on a brittle branch
about to snap, left in the lurch?

I am to blame, none else
it had always been me I encourage
an impossible dream to chase
in impatience, more often in rage.

The long past has slipped
away in painful memory--age
has spoken and farewelled has youth
it's true--love is false and a cruel *******.