Love Is Love

Love Is Love

 

 

A poet wrote that love is gold

while others say it’s blind

but all I know is what I hold

when you, my love, are kind.

Though words are whirling in my mind

words can be bought and sold

and gold’s a metal that was mined

and made in bricks, so hard and cold –

no, love is love, my love, as we grow old,

then when you’re sitting by the fire

where dying embers of desire

flicker like stories often told,

I’ll come and find you, touch your hand

say words that only you will understand.

 

Michael Warren