dash
L O V E...
 
Itís not a dozen scentless, hothouse roses.
     Itís not a heart-shaped chocolate-box clichť.
Itís not the scorching kiss that lust imposes  
     To lead all weak and fevered flesh astray.
Itís not an aphrodisiacal dinner.
     Itís not a knight-and-damsel fairytale.
Itís not a diamond promise on a finger.  
     Itís not a flashy dress and pricy veil.
Itís not a melancholic joy-deflator.
     Itís not a bitter tongue that tethers dreams.
Itís not a dour, draconian dictator
     That states that all ends justify the means.
 
Itís words that every selfless soul has spoken.  
     Itís songs that soar above the spinning sphere.
Itís heavenís gift Ė a sky-high, golden token
     That shines its rays when days are dark and drear.
Itís ears that hear the fears beneath your laughter.  
     Itís eyes that warm you when your world is cold.
Itís hands that hold you here and ever after Ė  
     Beyond the age when bones and hope grow old.
Itís never been a borrower or lender.  
     Itís given free and unconditionally.
Its flame burns with an honesty and splendor  
     That blazes in the bond of you-and-me.
 
Itís your rest when you are weary, lost and lonely.
     Itís your peace when here on earth youíre ash and dust.
Itís forever with your cherished one and only.
     Loveís a pleasure... Loveís a savior... Loveís a must.

Susan J. Bryant

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Susan J. Bryant 
would be pleased to hear them.


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