Love? What Do You Mean..? Poem by john coldwell

Sunlit sighs, white clad thighs,
On Sunday in the park.
Chance holding hands, faint hearts delight,
Sweetly high on eros youthful potion’s might,
Wistful whispers, kisses make the loins tight
Cheeks that blush, hearts that flush,
A schoolgirl, schoolboy crush,
Is this the love?

Being two, like old shoes,
That wear has made to fit.
And walk together, side by side,
Each the others sometime guide,
In philia’s mutual, easy stride,
A kindred soul that can rely
In time of need, no help deny,
Is this the love?


Arms to fall in from long ago,
Faces that place, I call my home.
Parts of me that you never see,
Given to make me family,
For bad or good,
Our storge blood,
Is this the love?

Hands that lift me into bed,
When I can no longer speak.
That dress, caress and clean for me,
And know there’ll be no thanks for thee,
For all thy lifelong agape.
From wart’ed lips and marbled eye
Your sacrifice until I die.
Is this the love?