Poetry: “Love”

Love is a father
Holding tight to your hand.
Love is the losses
That you never planned.
Love is the laughter
Drifting from the yard.
Love is the gatherings
When times grow hard.
Love is the crib
That swayed you to sleep.
Love is the bedside
Where your family weeps.
Love is a close race
Down buttered corn.
Love is the embrace
When voices grow worn.
Love is a treasure
That crossed half the world.
Love is a note
Wrought from misspelled words.
Love is the piece
Of the Endless we scrape.
Love is a bus
When no one is awake.
Love is the first light
That makes way for dawn.
Love is what remains
When all else is gone.

 

In memory of my father John

6/21/1952 – 6/21/2019