What is love?
The touch of another?
The laugh of a child?
Or the smile of a mother?
Who knows the meaning
Except those who have passed?
The ones who have loved
And know it can last.
If I tried to imagine,
I’d be thinking for years.
How can it bring joy
And also bring tears?
Some say it’s determined
By with whom it’s shared.
Will the bond hold tight
Or will the bond tear?
Is love just a thought,
Or a real state of being
Accompanied by hearts
And church bells ringing?
But who am I to ask
These things about love?
When no one is certain,
Not even a dove.
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