Girls came and sparked in bosomy doubt;
In those days I was the friend,
The one who had to talk about
A shooting-match, if ever had.
For twenty whole years I took out
Friend like faces, I rose but had not her.
Over ten years ago I met love.
She was in rehearsal, unknown was I.
Two in four hundred, like two gloves,
And letters wrote where numerous charms learnt
I worked off my selfish snaps.
And in her laugh I met my end.
Agreement twice that parting, bored,
I twice got a ring and easily rose
To be well thought of and, after, to believe.
Written using the words of Philip Larkin’s poem ‘Wild Oats‘ on 28th January 2020.