Love
Few people love; most know not love at all.
Their feelings of feigned affection wane
By any measure. Cupid never draws
His bow for those whose passions are in vain.
His quiver filled with strait loving arrows
Wings among Man to shoot and penetrate
The truest of hearts where amour does grow
To dwell and thrive within ardor soul mates.
Love has no boundaries and lives forever
Beyond the shuffling off our mortal shells
And thus remains in our souls with fervor
Until Cupid once again casts his spells.
So if by chance your heart has been smitten
Cherish this love that Venus has christened.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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