Love

Defining the indefined

"What is love anyways?" asked me a friend of mine, a curious one, who knew the taste of honey but still couldnt drip it through their lips.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat there thinking over the question, my mind unrest, What really was love, but then it hit me, A smile ran down my face resembling a knave at sea at the sight of tresure, Or maybe a honey bee at the sight of a flower, Love, it is an amusing thing a word so simple yet so profound, A mother caressing her baby, A school boy running off to the movies, An old'un making love to his drink in memories not found, Ask the singer, he'll say its the hum of a canary Ask the navy, he'll say its the waves of the sea, Ask the businessman, he'll say its the sound of the bills, Ask the actor, he'll say its the spotlight full of glee Ask me and I'll say, Love is the vulnerability at the sight of their shilloutte. Its the thurst of thirst finally getting quenched, a breeze of air on a hot summer day. Its the dancing of the flowers and the singing of the butterflies, all soothing full of delight. Its the beheading of a hopper, or the flight of icarus. Its the fly to a flytrap or the moth to a flame. What Love is, is the depths of a soul, something so beautiful so foul. Something so loathed yet so sought.