A fool got fooled further when I said I was poor

A fool who measures everything with the yardstick of wealth

I am poor, yes, I am poor and for true love I pray,

Everything else is in plenty and a lot do I spare.

Many a pompous and regaling party have I left

Where men and women gather too often to jest

And make merry with false smiles and trivial joys

I left them in my quest for the true and the rare.

I sit with the wealthy and elite of my time

They envy me for what I have in abundance with me

The women flatter me calling me handsome and great

While the men sit dazzled at my skills and my charms.

A maiden -- a doctor -- came and sought a dance

With me, saying I was like a knight of King Arthur

I looked at her and smiled with a polite "No thanks"

For in her my eyes saw only a time-passing glare.

I am lucky when it comes to worldly admiration

Praises and honours, prizes, adulation

Yet what I have been seeking all along is love

True love, seeking which, I am very poor even now.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed and posted on March 27, 2010.

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