by Brian Patten.

She loves him, she loves him not, she is confused.
She picks a fist of soaking grass and fingers it.
She loves him not.
The message passing from her head to heart,
Has in her stomach stopped.
She cannot quite believe the information is correct,
She loves him not.
She knows her needs and yet,
There is no special place they can rest.
To be loved alone is not enough,
She feels something has been lost.
She picks a fist of soaking grass,
Her world is blank, she thinks perhaps,
Its meaningless.