Longing

I’ve had my misadventures in the lists
Of love, and I suspect my time has been
And gone. And although my desire persists,
I don’t expect to find romance again.
At best, I hope to find someone with whom
I possibly can grow old gracefully.
But where’s the lady who I can presume
Is not averse to growing old with me?
For I am no suave lover, self-assured,
But must work slowly, to create a friend,
And prove my self, o’er time, by deed and word
Worthy of her heart unto the end.
But I grow weary; will I ever see
She for whom I wait most patiently?