Love, an over used word,
It means so many things to so many people
They love their cars and they love their beds,
They Love that dress and they love baked beans.
It gets used by the young and the old,
And to so many people it means so many things.
They use it in hate and they use it in lust, but is it a word they can really trust?
The love of a child, that the mother holds tight.
The love of a couple, while there is fresh dew,
The love for some one grown old, that you’ve know all your life.
Till that last flickering light,
The first loss of love, it bites oh so hard,
But new love will grow, though it can never been seen
And then once again, you will be in the dream
The sweetness of feeling, the love that is pure.
The love that binds us, our withering souls.
The bickering and arguments that come day to day,
They are but small things that should not cut deep,
For love that is deep, that’s spans time and space,
That is a love that cannot be bent.
If the love that you carry, if clear and known,
Then miracles can be worked, where all else would fail.
Where the one thing you know, is that come what may,
You carry your love,
To your last breath of day.
