What is love that it bequeaths
The future without expectations
Of the past or reality of the present.
What is love that in the journey
We falter when adversity is met
Or question the sanctity of vows,
The tribute of past and present
And gain little but loose much
Of what is love.
And how shall I shape the future
If knowledge of the past is squandered
Without kindness of spirit that
Guided me to my present.
What is love- the ornament of memory
And to the question I have the answer
Generous in mind and great in spirit,
And what is love- it bears A name
Shall I whisper so, whisper now
Her flaxon hair, Debussy played
No girl as such, more women yet
The dancing years have slowed the limbs
But comfort is she walks my shadow,
And that is love, dear wife.
By Don Magee