I broke up with him then went to a rained out music festival alone: some thoughts on love

The couple got married on stage, fav metal band played for love,

dancing and jumping to Creeper, professing forever love.

Phone pings, his text pleads, I hit block, walk soggy fields,

ponder my poor judgement in this world of senior love.

In my early divorcee days, I could spot a ringless finger

five cafe tables away, always on the prowl for love.

Helen Mirren’s advice to her younger self,  I'd tell myself 

to use the words fuck off much more frequently. Love.

Sheltering in a porty potty, blue cocoon, rain deafening 

I emerge to muddy fields and sunset, cleansed of murky love.

Sleeping on my new futon—hard, holding me firmly

but not trying to get inside, my new true love.

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NaPoWriMo prompt: Try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.

photo at Riverfest, Elora, Ontario