The One (Or Two) That Got Away (Poetry)

The first had freckles and red hair
which seemed to be enough —
different from the other boys
somehow, and not so rough.
I loved him from distance —
safe — and hid the way I felt
so he never scaled the castle walls
wherein this maiden dwelt.

The next, a blond, tall, lanky lad
who lived a street away
we went to the same youth club
where I used to watch him play
endless games of ping pong ...
I admired him furtively
far too shy to draw attention
thus he failed to notice me.

The smooth-tongued office romeo
was third to rule my heart
but half the typing pool as well
were pierced by Cupid’s dart
and competition was that fierce
no prayer to Valentine
or potion dreamed could ever make
his handsome figure mine.

After that, there was a string
of fancies true to type
but those I met so often weren’t
the ones I grew to like.
Much rather those who stayed aloof
or claimed by someone else
they were the focus of desire —
such dreams I spun myself.

The world of Romance held me close —
that bliss of suffering
the pangs of unrequited love
which coloured everything
until reality cut in
at some point — as it must
and I gave up on fantasy
persuaded to adjust

I took what fate had chosen me —
a suitably good match
and settled for the ordinary —
a life semi-detached
few roses twined around the door
and fading day by day
like memory ... their faces blur —
the ones that got away.