Love…is like shopping for clothes in a Macy’s
You’re embarrassed to be there and the outfits are too “racy”
And just when you think you’ve found the right fit
Your mother wrinkles her nose and sneers “get rid of it”.
You’re tired and hungry and expect something more
Some form of reward for suffering this store.
Husbands and lovers watch through somber eyes
For they too fell victim to love’s cheerful guise
You’re unsure if the store judges what you pick from the rack
But you wear it with pride and do not put it back
Because love must match with complimentary hues
The shirt must match the socks and the belt to the shoes.
And whilst we still grow, some love is tossed away

In favor of love that will fit better a later day
And when our search for that elusive love reaches its stop
We no longer come to Macy’s to shop.