Love?

Another oldie.

 

What is love?

Is it a fancy for earthly things?

Or a desire for things beyond and above?

As fleeting as a sparrow’s wings?

Or abounding freedom that is within the likeness of a dove?

Was it sought after by medieval kings?

And valiant knights who what became of,

Only the minstrel sings?

 

This quest is after sought,

By each one of us.

Looked after yet comes to naught,

Yet only if we break the trust,

Of ages long past which bought,

A forever eternal gust,

A long road we must trot.

Of love’s dust.

To find love’s web caught.

Although yet fail we sometimes must.