Is love a selfish thing
serving but one master,
each of those coupled merely daffed
believing it is theirs to keep?
But love is its own master,
comes and goes, or does a fickle dance,
though from time to time
may be prodded - poked, cajoled
to do one's narrow bidding.
In the end romantic love will depart,
then best to hope that in its place
it leaves friends that go on caring.