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"What is love?" a friend once asked. "How can I know it's real? How can I know if it will last, This thing I think and feel? Is love a flitting butterfly? A figment of the mind? Or is is something you can see? Or blend with all mankind? Who really knows what true love is? Who truly can define it? Who has the answer? This I ask. Can you wrap it up and bind it?" The answer, friend, I cannot give Wrapped up in bows and lace, For love to you and love to me Might show a different face; But love to each and every soul Is precious, and so special That given time and a little care Has power to enmesh all. It's saying, "Dear, forgive me," When you know you're not all wrong. It's saying, "Darling, I need you," Or, "That's our special song." It's giving, taking, sharing. It's knowing what to say. It's hoping, needing, caring; Exploring each new day. It's hurting, healing, groping, As problems come our way It's crying, laughing, moping, And working without pay. It's knowing though you're far apart You're really side by side, Or telling friends with glowing eyes You're proud to be his bride. It's giving him a second chance When everything seems wrong. It's saving him the very last dance, Or writing him a song. And so, dear friend, I've tried to say What true love means to me; But you'll find as the years rush past, True love is, above all...Free! by © Barbara A. Duits 1999 |