What is love? Is it less
For never having held
Your hand, touched
Your face, or brushed
An unruly strand of hair
Back into place for you?
Is there not a space in which
Our love abides?
Or, you, whose gentle hand
I’ve held as tears welled,
Though I stand no longer
By your side, as time
And distance have divided
Us, is our love now less?
My now and always friend,
How can it not be the same?
If not love, what name are we
To give what we two share?
Or do we dare proclaim
What we know to be,
And stand, hand in hand,
Together in this room
We have built, wherein
Our hearts still beat as one?
*Image credit: Columbia consoling a dejected Winfield Scott Hancock after his defeat in the presidential election of 1880, by Thomas Nast, courtesy http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/67500/67584/67584_col_han.htm
2 comments:
I really liked this one. Perfect illustration as well.
You're such a good poet - you should write more often.
P.S. I GUESS I can share :)
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