Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Where does it go when love is young?
Off into songs and stories?
Into words, words, words?

Where goes it when love grows old,
amid wrinkles, rundown bodies,
stooped backs, canes and walkers?

Where then is love?
Or even hope or desire?
  In the caring touch?
  The understanding glance?
  The open, accepting face?
  The offhand remark that lifts?

Where?
Anywhere it wants.

March 25, 2014