I studied Latin, thinking I 
Would see a certain girl a lot, 
But she liked Tom. I learned to say 
“Puella bella me non amat.” 

We met again when I took Greek, 
The language of philosophy. 
She went with Joe, and now I know 
The essence of a tragedy. 

The same was true in Renaissance, 
With every woman I pursued. 
The closest I could get to love 
Was Venus, painted semi-nude. 

Then in German, Spanish, French, 
I found the same recurring themes: 
Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. 
The classics never change, it seems. 

j.lewis

is a musician, psych nurse practitioner, internationally published poet, and the editor of Verse-Virtual, an online journal and community. When he is not otherwise occupied, he is often outdoors, exploring and photographing the open spaces near his home in California. He is the author of six full-length poetry collections, two photo books, and twelve poetry chapbooks.

Author’s website: https://www.jlewisweb.com/books.asp