by Christopher Mcilquham

Created on: February 23, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

I used to think
That love was grand.
But washed away quickly,
Like castles in the sand.

I used to think
That love was just.
That every man does
And every woman must.

I used to think,
That love was blind.
That special person
You try to find.

I used to think
That love was great.
Interwoven,
Into our fate.

I used to think
That loves doesn't lie.
An obvious feeling,
That doesn't imply

But sometimes I think,
That love is sour.
A force over which,
We have no power.

I sometimes think,
That love is a foe.
You need only look at Juliet
And poor Romeo.

I sometimes think,
That love is cruel.
Teasing like a maiden,
But kicking like a mule.

I sometimes think,
That love is taunting.
Unreachable,
Yet always flaunting.

I sometimes think,
That love is pain.
A farce we follow,
With such disdain

But now I know,
That love is all.
A trip, a stumble
And then a fall.

Now I know,
That love is best.
With a quickened beating,
Within the chest.

Now I know,
What love does hold.
The answer to a riddle,
We have not been told.

Now I know,
That love is rife.
With problems and heartbreak,
And trouble and strife.

Now I know,
That love is distance.
A journey to complete,
at any instance.

Now I know.

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