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A few days prior, I found myself lamenting
On love, that rare, elusive force
Of which we all strive for

And I thought to myself,
Why not write a poem –
Open my soul up and let the thoughts flow

And flow they did not.
My mind was a trickle of water
In windswept plain;
The words were not coming easy.

Perhaps I have never felt true love,
In which case I could never truly write of it
Although, perchance I have –

Suffice it to say that I may have brushed
With that sought-after force,
That which will cloud the mind of trivial matters
Like work
And keep clear those higher things,
Like the paradise in her eyes

Mere words cannot seem to describe
The moments in which
The entire world could vanish
And you wouldn’t care the slightest,
For the most beautiful girl in all eternity
Was in your arms

Perhaps true love can never be made light of
By lines and curves on paper,
Or by anything else
Aside from the heart itself.