The Game Of Love

Love happens with no measure

Nor it is an adventure

Nor is it a piece of pricy furniture

Rather, it is to be taken as a great leisure

A walk in a flowery garden

A dance in the courts of Eden

A swing in the mysticism of Amen

A leisure, as comforting as our own brethren

Hey Cupid, why do you act with zeal

When love you can’t even conceal

When you can’t even hear my appeal

When you decide on the rules of the deal

Love ends with no measure

Someday it turns out to be a stricture

It becomes so easily a game of defeature

At worst, it turns into a caricature

Then it becomes a game of the strongest

The winner is the one who runs furthest

The one who can cry less

And he turns thus, to be simply senseless!