To say I love you, I shall write a sonnet.
I know, I know, the fashion is long out.
A woman would no more go with a bonnet
than grandma would have thought to go without,
And serenades? As like as not to hinder
the questing of a modern Cyrano.
He's better off to list himself on Tinder.
He'll still get the occasional "oh, no!"
when prospects see that nose in real life,
but others thinking opposites attract,
uninterested in the title "wife",
might nonetheless employ him for the act.
So that is modern love, but I'm old-fashioned.
I'll settle for a sonnet, if impassioned.
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