The Middle Muddle

It is neither here nor there ‘Love’, heading nowhere Somewhere between Youthful passion And aged restraint At times, a little devil At times, a little saint The age wrong The parties wrong The wait- ever so long That Hamlet like dilemma ‘To be or not to be’ “Willing to wound, But afraid to strike,” you see Those innocuous rendezvous Apparently looking risky ‘Tarry’, she implores But he, Ever ready to flee Should not be seen Should not be observed Thus, little of action More of words Want to know ‘What is it’? Well, let’s call it ‘The Middle Muddle’ And, thus, a vain chase For that love bubble