What is it to love?

My journey on questionable poetry

I began chasing love -

love in the eyes of every passing face.

A “hello” to a retriever,

a soft word for a stranger’s teeth.

I drank the light in their lungs

when they laughed, knowing

none of it was mine to keep.

But I am not empty for the giving;

the hearth is here.

For the joy is to have loved,

not the despair of never loving.

I am love.