Forty-Love
Almost too quickly, it’s come time to choose:
Have you been courting a twin score of years
A match being watched from seats in the tiers?
Panic sets in: there’s no time to lose.
Perhaps what’s been said will all come as news:
Yet any attempts to play your set fears
Belie the fact that behind those sweat tears
Irrational feelings tighten the screws.
Relax, relax, there’s no need to hurry!
Time will be altered to fit it all in:
Here is the chance to let go of worry;
Don’t rush so much, you’re still going to win.
Ask, to be given; seek, All you will find;
Yes is the answer – Love really is kind…

I guess this one is a bit too obscure… My Astrology partner turned 40 in 1987, and she seemed worried that life was passing her by. I wrote this poem using the extended tennis metaphor to show her that even though the score seemed a bit one-sided (40 to 0), she would still win at life, in the end.
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