Diagnosis (Poetry)

The head asked the heart
and the heart answered guardedly
that there’s no way of knowing
where emotions are concerned —
feelings are mercurial —
like weather — and endurable
for even when it’s snowing
we recall the heat that burned...

The heart quizzed the head
and the head gave a terse reply —
‘I’m done with all this thinking —
it destroys my peace of mind.
I’m still aware while sleeping
of the turmoil — though I’m keeping
calm. I fear I’m sinking.
There’s no rest for me to find!’

The heart murmured gently then
and fluttered sympathetically
suggesting it could be a crush —
some feverish condition...
Nothing to be done it seems
we’re victims of our wayward dreams —
romantic hearts and flowers slush
spells ‘Love’ by definition.