After the War

I courted nice old fashioned girls

With bashful eyes beneath their curls,

And ones who thought so very new

Demanding praise they were not due.

None were loyal by the yard

Or loyal by the meter,

And if there is a one true heart

I’ve sadly yet to meet her.

Perhaps it’s women’s nature then

To have corners to their eyes

Through which to judge upcoming men,

Calculating loves demise

Perhaps it is some lack in me

I am too close alas to see,

Or some long nurtured lie in mind

Seeking what’s not there to find.

There is no winning in the fray,

Where every dog may have his way.

What’s won is only borrowed time,

None are ever always mine.

At peace, alone, I count the cost

Of battles won and battles lost,

The war is over, come what may

I will not fight another day.