Too Much To Ask?

Patience is a virtue, but it is not one
of hers. She has wanted, oh so much
to be chosen, but patience was severely
wanting and in desperation she did
the choosing, impulsively, seeing no
need to hesitate, deliberate, weigh
the value and the potential she was
drawing into her wanting life.

Her choices were many, each one
in its time proving insufficient unto
the day and of her needs. She needs
someone to admire her, value her,
cherish her, protect her from life's
random, threatening vagaries. Is that
too much to ask of Dame Fortune?

Evidently so, for those she chose in
a lifetime of serial pursuits and mutual
accommodation proved incapable of
stirring within her the gladness of heart
that would result, she knew of a certainty,
were they to have dedicated themselves
unswervingly to her well-being in a
tandem of unrestrained, caring love.

She casts them off, one by one, coldly
appraising their failures, then sweeps
feverishly about for newer prospects,
one for whom her future was promised
and the choices become narrower
with age and she despairs of a finality that
will leave her alone, devoid of the life
companion whose absence she mourns.

Just, after all, someone to appreciate
her unimpeachable qualities, someone
to pine for her presence, someone to love
her and understand her needs. Someone
to dedicate his life to sharing hers.
Someone to cherish and be in turn
cherished. Is that too much to ask for?