A proper rogue would be remiss
In passing up a farewell kiss
For those he took and then forsook
To hunt for fresher prey.
 
You might define yourselves as spurned,
Or used, perhaps, or turned and burned,
But bless your hearts for all the darts
You’ve aimed and launched my way.
 
This artful dodger struck and ducked,
While those I plucked amassed and clucked
About the man who loved and ran
Before the light of day.
 
But please consider what it means
When you relive the loving scenes
Of you and me in ecstasy,
And hear me when I say:
 
I never meant to break your heart,
Or rip your bridal dreams apart,
But you have sight in black and white,
And I in only gray.