A Collection of Poems

Untitled Poem 24

What does it mean to love?

Is it the idea of love that makes it so?

Questions I ask myself each day when I'm with you,

I'm in so deep that pulling myself up seems impossible,

I don't want to be rescued from this place,

So warm and comfortable like home,

I look up from my reading to find you,

Eyes that are hard to look away from,

With you, I am whole again,

Without you, I am missing a piece of myself,

I love you so much I could scream,

You pull me up from the grassy ground,

We walk hand in hand down the trails,

Your hands are warm to the touch of my cold skin,

We stop to sit under a grand oak tree,

Engulfed in an array of falling leaves of autumn color,

You kiss my cheek as you hold me close,

I am no longer cold as I feel your warmth around me.