The Book of T.J.

To explain the joy of love,
A poets words have tried
But in their ignorance, incomplete,
With the fold still over their eyes.

Defined when when love is new,
There are no moments too great.
Everything through the rose color,
No feelings of sad, lonely or hate.

Each moment builds upon the next,
Adding to the colored blur.
Love is the absence of all emotion,
That does not revolve around her.

But this belief, believed by most,
Is nothing more than a bad trend.
It's an emotion few have felt,
And even less can comprehend.

Love is not only the good,
The joy and smile in blend,
But the collection of all emotion,
That will last forever in a friend.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 20 2010 and is filed under Poetry.