Some say Love
a poem for Elizabeth and Eli, September, 2016
Some say that love is
a flower;
a dozen red roses.
To some love is
a dove;
soft and gentle and sweet.
Others claim that love
waits on an
eruption of emotion
exploding in the heart.
Some say that love
waits for a diamond
or
holding hands in the sunset.
A few just prefer a
simple red heart
but
I think love may be something
else; love waits…
until pigs fly;
a little slow on lift off perhaps,
not exactly proportioned
certainly not aerodynamic,
even a bit unsteady
not the most beautiful
or perfect;
not designed by plan
nothing so fashionable
just
the normal everyday
living taking flight
and
lifting each lover
to a new
height
with
new vistas
and new horizons.
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