~Picky Heart~

¿How Can Only One Fit
If There's So Much Room?

¿When did you become not interchangeable?
In our machine-world everything's replaceable.

It seems only a short while ago all women
Looked deliciously attractive—blondes, brunettes,
Red-heads—sexy, shapely, stately—a panoply
Of styles suited me just fine: their walk, their talk,
Their sway, their smell—¡All heavenly!

Then, without a revelation,
No inkling of the thunderbolt,
Something strange occurred to me:

Chord's tones grated shrill, if absent your voice.
Wine's tannins tasted bitter, if lacked your smile.
Light's colors glared garish, if missed your sparkle.
Smell's aromas repelled noisome, if gone your musk.

& Lost was I in your fullness,
& Happy was I your difference,
& I knew my heart had chosen,
You alone from all others.
​