The Annals Of His Romances Poem by Bryan Taplits

A child no longer, now a man,
Resounding beats above,
Some squirming synapses-then judgment lapses,
I guess, it must be love.
The youth once stalled sees the girl grown up
Their hearts each pound their ages,
They meet. Repeat.
Can't stay discrete...
I guess, it then is marriage.
Immortal union parts in force,
Divorce,
Sprout weeds where once was clover.
New people to seek; infidelities so sheik!
I guess...
It must be over!