What is Love?

What is love, my dear, my darling,
is it thoughts I think of you.
Is it listening to each word you say,
as if they're all brand new.

Is it longing so to see you,
when we briefly drift apart.
Or the sparkle of your laughter
that so enthralls my heart.

Is it listening to your gentle sighs,
as you slumber through the night.
Or the waking to your lovely smile that offers such delight.

Is it looking deep in to your eyes,
the mirror of your soul.
With hope eternal thoughts of doing so
till growing old.

Is it pacing round in anguish, when by chance you're running late.
In fearful trepidation that by chance you've met your fate.

If not this, then love is lost, to me, I must assume.
My heart will wander corridors and end in empty rooms.

My body now devoid of life, an empty, rusty shell, My soul would hear the sirens call, and lured down to hell.

So let love prevail, as needs it must,
sure it's that for which we seek.
It's there for all to share,
for the strong and for the meek.

And should it be that love is such, then let these words be etched in stone.
A blueprint for the world to keep, lest we die not all alone.

Wayne