Teacher

No mornings wake with ardor now,
Nor lustful heat bring waking nights.
No tender kisses make me bow;
My pride restored, my soul delights.

Love burgeons in daily defeat;
Equating that both must suffer.
Wherein each loss considered sweet,
Each victory earned together.

If lovers vie for victory,
They trample well the defenseless.
Fighting strong for territory,
They suffer loss of tenderness.

In truth, pride a cold bedmate makes.
As well, souls are lonely creatures.
Inept lovers who make mistakes,
Are truly Love's only teachers:

Solitude brings strength aplenty,
But rarely warms the bitter cold --
Nor shares joy in times of bounty.
Love kindly, in giving be bold.