Love, Love is defined as a deep affection a willingness, a eagerness, a clarity 


no but a storm where you sit, or lay and ponder answers not known. Instead a concept, right outside your grasp yet in the palm of your hand. 


Love is it yet, it may be, why is contemplated, why you, and there the calm of the storm found and answers with it.


Your eyes like clear judgment, smile like a fire on a snowy eve, or is it the passion, the care, the everlasting delight and elegance about you.


To many words no space can fit, with the little room I possess, love fills the lines as you filled my life with joys I had yet to know like a hourglass flipped, sand spilling the order never the same.


You are a beacon of life, love, and hope.


Looking at a world so familiar now estranged, a new breeze passes I ask is it love yet to be or is.


As the storm ends and Luna phase begins the stars spell a story 


The story of you, me and the moon one lovely day at a time.


This poem is about: 


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