Poetic Interlude CXIX

Infatuation

By Tyler J. Yoder

How could you possibly love me,

You slight young slip of a boy?

You don’t even know me from Adam;

I’m aging, and comfortably coy –

And yet, I enjoy the attention

(I never was Helen of Troy).

If you’re toying with me for the money,

Good luck, boy – it’s already spent –

Or maybe you think I’ve got talent

(And I may, to a certain extent) –

Whatever the insane attraction,

I doubt that I’ll dare to relent.

I suppose I’ll submit to seduction;

I admit I’ll allow your allure.

Don’t think you can rest on your laurels –

I’ll always remain insecure.

How could you possibly love me?

You might, but it’s still premature.