Here are two true loves poems. One tends toward the real, the other toward fantasy. May you find your own true love!
Searching for True Love, a poem
by Dustin Down
You turned away in fear
and the connection was severed
before it ever could be made.
Don’t you see, it’s alway there,
yet we lack the ability to seize it
at the right time, in the right place.
True love is three feet away in an old mall
where you turn three seconds too late,
and it’s gone before you ever saw it.
True love passes you on the side walk
and leaves you breathless and confused,
wondering if you’ll ever see it again.
We all make do, we all push forward,
we move along, alive but asleep,
afraid to stop and reflect over all we let go.
Maybe in a bookstore late a night
or taking a walk in a park at an odd hour
true love will stumble across you, will you take it?
Or maybe in a neighboring office that you visit
you’ll see true love there, in a cubical —
sad, bored, lost and waiting: will you walk over?
Frailty and vulnerability do so work their charms,
but only after the chance is gone,
and sometimes true love just can’t get in sync.
Maybe by the river at a picnic with friends
you’ll find a new face, true love will smile at you,
and attraction will do the rest, marriage will follow.
But as the years go on will it deepen
and transcend the daily ennui of routine, exigency,
fallibility — is true love eternal?
You’re a bicycle in motion, and you dare not stop
less you fall — and there you go again,
out there searching for true love.
Weird Love, a poem
by Rob Burr
I am a sea spirit of the great beyond
where I swim in the depths of the oceans;
I have come to the beaches to search
for my true love.
I walk the land only uncomfortably
as I search for her, so that I might take her
back with me into the depths of the sea,
where she belongs, my true love.
Here and there I look, but no where can I find her
until one day in a building by the sea —
a towering building with too many passages and
too many rooms — I find her captive, my true love.
These captors watch her, day in and day out,
what she eats and what she drinks;
how long she sleeps — she can’t even breath
without them counting her breaths, my true love.
I watch helplessly, day after day,
as I slowly dry up, far from my home
in the depths of the sea — I wait for a chance
when I might seize here and take her home, my true love.
Then one day, when I’ve all but given up hope,
the earth itself begins to shake, and the building
wavers in a thousand ways, scaring all; but
while they flee, I see the path clear to my true love.
With the whole place is in an uproar,
people running to and fro, back and forth,
I make my way through the chaos,
until I can lay my hands upon my true love.
I take her hand in mine, how soft she feels;
I lead her through long, winding passages
and past many doors and down many stairs
and out the back door, to the beach, my true love.
Then hand in hand, we dive into the water,
we swim out until we are far from the shore,
then dive deep, deep, into the sea;
finally, I return home — with my true love.
True love doesn’t come to you it has to be inside you.
— Julia Roberts
The course of true love never did run smooth.
— William Shakespeare