My Italian amore, for instance.

Maybe I disappoint some people. But then, certain people disappoint me. Maybe that's natural. To be disappointed. Because we have lofty expectations of each other.  And of ourselves. Makes me wonder. If we expect too much. Of each other. And ourselves. But then, I ponder. That maybe we expect too little. And that's the real problem. Maybe we all could do better. And we would be far less disappointed. But I know one thing. For sure. There are a few. That don't leave me disappointed.  My Italian amore, for instance. --Jim Broede