I would have been a nurse had I not taught,

Wearing starched white as I walked waxed floors;

Hospitals, church basements I often sought

In pursuit of assurance, body and soul.

Think of Catherine with him in the dark,

How nursing turns to love so easily;

And how love at first sight is simply mocked

By those who never started out crazy.

When you love you wish to do things for,

But the cynic misunderstands sacrifice.

He fails to comprehend love’s great allure;

A faithless doubt, his one held-true vice.

Poor cynic’s eyes are blind, his vision blurred;

He knows not when you love, you wish to serve.