With some confusion, I asked again,
`But what makes your feelings real?’
She gestured vaguely, a sandwich in hand,
`One doesn’t know: one feels.’

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes,
I asked her to make herself more clear,
But immediately regretted it
As she obviously held the topic dear.

`I think you should be governed by the heart:
It’s the highest, truest form of guide;
And to force it under the reign of the mind
Is to let your best happiness elide.’

(She didn’t speak quite that clearly,
She was both inarticulate and eating lunch,
I’m paraphrasing, generously, the above,
Based on an interpretative hunch.)

I decided not to press it further,
Not sure my eyes could take more rolling,
I promised to give the matter more thought,
And so I set off a-strolling.

While we don’t share philosophical ground,
She’s a rather endearing, arrogant elf.
But I don’t think I want, anytime soon,
To repeat lunch with my former self.