Win some, lose some
I'm sorry that I lacked the nerve
to speak to you myself,
resorting to another's words
while hiding like an Elf.
It's just that beauty, like a rose
often has its thorn,
Just like the one that's pricked my heart
and left me naught but scorn.
Jessie, was my messenger
a herald of the news,
she return'd with tales of sorrow
and left my heart a bruise;
But as a vet'ran of life's scheme
I've often failed before,
It's not a story new to me
nor one that I abhor.
Win some, lose some, as some might say
and this time I have failed,
but even Columbus knew the cost
before he ever sailed;
So, as a bold adventurer
I merely forge ahead,
For what stories can be told
from a book that's left unread?
