Isn't It Marvelous?

Isn't it marvelous the way love stirs the words?

Awakens them until

tripping into a frolic they dance

lightly down the arm

through the fingers

and out the tip of my pen. 

Indelible. Black against white. 

Or other times resting low and lusty

each voluptuous syllable dripping 

heavy

with ripe saturation. 

Ink on the page. Permanent. 

Isn't marvelous the way love makes us eternal?