LOVE IS...

Love is a glass
Of wine, half full,
Clasped in your fingers,
You trace the name of
Your beloved on the rim,
As your lips try to recall
The warmth of their kiss
Under the canopy of trees
On that night of the full moon.

Love is a book of poems
With letters softened because
Time is a power the words
Have been battling with,
Yet in those faded shades of ink,
The writing of your beloved
Marks a page, in the mundane
Humdrum of life passing by,
Years have slipped through
Their hands, but they still
Remember the kiss you
Shared on that night of the
Full moon, spring in the air,
And wine on your breath,
The intoxication, even in
The autumn of life
Hasn't worn off.