Too many sonnets, too much tears,
Too many nameless, unknown fears ,
Seem to follow the proverbial broken heart,
The owner hapless, on where to start.
The stifled sobs, the muffled rage,
Ah! those melodramatic sighs with age,
Was it worth the road less taken?
To leave one stirred, but not really shaken?
Does romance die, because one chooses to smile anew?
To laugh and cry with every hue?
Is it fashionable to dwell in pain?
Or learn to live and love again?