Idle Pursuit Poem by Melissa Hurst

This mind of mine
went rabid after your bid
of farewell.

Goodbye, I bent it to be
a joke that you played upon my mind
for some meager years.

And I wept eager tears
until my attentive ear
heard the familiar voice.

O, how high I leapt!
And yet I came to fear
that there will be
something to regret.

O, how my heart clung to the possible part!
How foolish I was to convince myself
that it was all in good humor
when you parted from me.

Alas, as it is commonly said,
the joke is indeed upon me.
My leaping has turned to dragging
after realization of unreturned enthusiasm.

My voice is not so cherished,
but ignorance hardly acknowledges
indirect rejection.
Should it be told aloud,
I may acquire some sense about me
and draw back my nose that sniffs for your scent.

Perhaps you should sing me
a lengthy song of adieu.
Sing it in hopes that
I would comprehend
and avert my eyes.

And should drastic measures be taken,
break the bones within my legs
so that I cannot draw near you.
Pluck out my eyes
so they cannot be aware
of where you stand.