Love

Love is a word that cannot be defined

It blows on forever in the sands of time

It has no beginning, no middle, no end

It isn’t a fashion, a fad, or a trend

It harvests tears from the toughest man’s eyes

It runs the richest man’s bank accounts dry

It has no touch or physical features

Yet we still find that love is the best of all teachers

It will rip the life from a healthy young soul

It can take the desire to live from us all

But still we will find ourselves following love

For its splendor is that of a beautiful dove

On the day that I die the one thing that I fear

Is that love will not be there to dab at my tears.

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