Poem: Love, Isn’t Weird ?

 

It’s not every day that butterflies return,

fluttering in a heart that thought it had learned.

Strange, how a glance can pull back the years,

and youth walks in, brushing off the fears.

At night I wonder, quietly, alone,

can love be reborn, seeds suddenly sown?

Does she feel it too, this unspoken fire,

or is it just me, caught in desire?

I cannot confess, the words never flow,

I just hope my silence is something she knows.

That, perhaps, she’ll come near to me,

as if love itself willed our destiny.

Isn’t it weird, this funny disguise,

a joy that hides in sleepless eyes?

Isn’t it strange, how it makes you smile,

even if it lasts just a little while?

It is weird, it is fun, it is tender above,

it is nothing and everything - 

it is just love.