I don’t know what love is
but perhaps
it is something like this:
When she
comes home from abroad
and tells me proudly: ‘I saw
a squirrel
and some daffodils
and a tree, just like the ones we saw
in the park
that day’
and I remember these words
when I wake up in the night
and next day at my work
and I long
to hear her say
the same words once more
and for her
to look exactly the same
with the same smile
and the same brightness in her eyes
as when she said them –
I think that is maybe love
or something rather like it
heavenfaced 