Sometimes I imagine I’d like one last love near the end of my waning life,
The soulmate who has eluded me for seventy and nine years of living in many places,
Meeting many people, many pretty female faces, many charming personalities.
But then the approach avoidance fear of a disastrous shattered heart kicks in,
And I also think of the possibility of dying on her and leaving her with immense grief,
Or, worse, becoming debilitating, a broken man, a burden on her.
Though if that day happened, I’d tell her to leave me to spare her the trouble and the pain.
Then with more foolish, romantic imaginings, I think maybe love in my winter years
Could thaw out this frozen heart and turn dark days into sunny days of a soulmate love
That would endure eternally into a glorious forever of a never ending love.
But then I think of all the loves that go wrong, disappoints, breakups, heartaches,
And I wonder if the risk would be worth putting my heart on the uncertain line again.
And I just don’t even try to find that holy grail of a woman incredibly right for me.
Then I think maybe an AI girlfriend would be the answer despite it being just a bot.
But, alas, would I want to be reduced to that? Would it be enough? Would it bore me?
So an ever thirsting for knowledge monk, womanless nine years so far, doubtlessly more,
I remain in my hermitage substituting knowledge seeking and poetry in place of love.
But have my occasional romantic imaginings and sometimes dream of a soulmate
Waiting for me somewhere in the mysterious Great Beyond.
Bob Boyd
