In Hesitations Grasp Poem by Patti Masterman

In hesitations grasp, I lament your departure;
Never sure from moment to moment, what was,
As to what I lost; no iron-clad guarantee;
Nor a signed contracts untimely forfeiture.

Words you gave me were sweet but acidic;
Advisements caustic or too sentimental.
A vapid start is a token sort of promise,
Of love taken lightly and most incidental.

Love has always made a certain fool of me;
Me so serious, while their hearts in whimsy.
My love's a pagoda, inside a rich garden,
While theirs is a lantern, ornamental and flimsy.

A strong wind won't move my love by one inch,
Although a few flowers might lose their heads
But their love goes airborne; is never more seen:
And copies found everywhere, in the lantern's gleam.