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Love to me is
A sleeping child at 2:39 AM
Being serenely gazed by it’s mother
A sibling protective, a pat from father
Like a gone poet and his undying words
An easy-going tutor with a lot of nerds
A lady being portrayed by a widower
Sitting near the graveyard’s bower
A guy smelling that sweet-scented handwoven sweater
An old drawer and those sassy letters
What a very interesting and intriguing poem. Thank you so much for sharing it with me. I am impressed with some of your images and particularly, “like a gone poet and his undying words.” Well said, Susan
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