What is love, what is love made of?
by Thomas Raguar
What is my love to you, how is it that love does what it can do?
If love is fall leaves, then mine for you is a cityful of debris.
If love is city lights, then you'd never be able to sleep at night.
If love is the stars above, then your sky would be an astronomers treasure trove.
Love in letters, in person, is it better?
Love in words, with live lips, are they blurred?
Where did my heart go, I had asked myself, as if I would know!
I've found it again, I left it with you, when this began.
I was dead for eight moons; dark nights with no love; you are the sun at noon.