This poem, which I wrote some years ago, comes from Autumn Leaves:

What is Love?

Is it the twinkle in a young puppy’s eyes?

Is it soft-spoken words of promise,

Bringing a pretty maiden’s sighs?

What is Love?

Is it the quiet, understanding look in a mother’s warm smile?

Or is it the sultry eyes of a temptress

Who seeks to beguile?

What is Love?

Is it two lovers locked in rapture’s sweet throes?

Is it devotion or poetry,

Emotion or prose?

What is Love?

I’ve searched long and hard, looking for the answer,

Piercing through volumes

Like a hard-charging lancer.

What is Love?

Everything I’ve read or heard reveals nothing conclusive.

The answer is existent,

But very elusive.

What is Love?

I don’t know the answer–I can honestly state.

If you know, please tell me.

It must be fantastically great!