If she loved you once, she might love you twice

but this is her game, it is played as solitaire.

No fine king of diamonds, no mad jack of spades;

no fancy club for the lovelorn where you

can outmaneuver with a winsome grace.

This is not the game where anyone wins.

It is one heart played and nothing more to spare.

Like a dreamy master game, one step forward,

crisscross, slide three over but the window will close.

Set a table as if waiting for two– although

no service is forthcoming, no challenge of wits;

not even remembrances served with an aperitif.

After a cleansing fast, she may even return;

but this is her game and still true to one heart

it is played alone, remains a lively solitaire,

a long running, loss-defying life of solitaire.