A Kooky Love Story
If you want a kooky love story, I'll give you Dante and Beatrice,
In their entire history, they never met more than thrice.
He loved and longed and pined,
She married another and died.
She never even knew of his love, you see.
He never told her, “You're my much adored popsie.”
He never sang “Bella Ciao” or even said anything that'd remotely amuse.
He just stared in the street and thought, “There goes my darling muse.”
So she died without a thought of him in the end,
He remained a one-muse man until his own last bend.
It certainly soured relations with the brand-new wife,
She had hoped to be the one and only in his life.
Four kids down the line, war broke out at home,
And all across the country, right down from Rome.
Civil strife won over Marital and off escaped Dante to exile,
Mrs. Dante dogged his footsteps and daily grew more vile.
And finally got over the yearning of being his second muse if not the first,
When, in his 'Inferno', he wrote, “My haughty wife of evils proved the worst.”