The Mocking Face of Love Oh, love, why is it that you mock me Cupid’s arrows falling at my feet flitting eyes that settle – always elsewhere trembling hands that never reach to touch. Why must you visit yet never stay linger in scented memory consumed in darkening shadows pursued by memory’s melancholy. Oh love, had I tasted your nectar imbibed the succulence of your secrets dined on the opulence of your beauty sated myself on a moment of your madness Would I then have known you well enough to smile at the mocking face of love. John G. Lawless ©6/17/2021