Much Ado (About Nothing) Poem by Laala Kashef Alghata

I thought that you were my Benedick
and I, your Beatrice, that we argued
against love into love, but oh! I was wrong.

Beatrice truly loved Benedick,
and he loved her. Their fights
were a vibrant cloak to veil their emotions.

No, darling, you were my Claudio,
and I, your Hero, for their love
was of the superficial kind.

Fair Hero, you only loved what your eyes
saw before you, you only loved
who you thought a great man.

Foolish Claudio! How you jump to conclusions
of the maiden you are to marry, how you break
her heart and cast her aside.

(And you killed her once but she came back
to life; no thanks to you and your selfish ways.)

Love is too tricky a treat to play with;
we are, none of us, fit to add to the ingredients
but are, all of us, allowed to stir.