Love 'v' Love
The glance, askance, romance ?
A pulsating, fixating, gyrating.
Soft mushy, fuzzy, wuzzy.
We call this thing love.
Being 'in love' is a wonderful affair,
And perchance, is so ruefully rare.
But is this true love ?
A firework display of testosterones,
And palpitating hollow thought-ed breaths.
I see real love deepen,
To a point of near contentment,
Needing none of this flamboyance.
The laugh, the smile, the dance.
A shoulder to rest tearfully on,
The hand to hold in a storm.