Love is like a living cell—
it parts itself in two
and each new created love
Is a brand new part of you.
If creation is immortal
And a thing forever new
Then the love that you create,
It must be immortal, too.
So, when your life is over
And your days on earth are through,
The love you leave behind
Is still a part of you.

Herb welcomes letters.
You can write him in care of:
The International Poetry Hall of Fame
1 Poetry Plaza
Owings Mills, MD 21117

by Herbert Moore

Other poems of HERBERT MOORE (2)

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