Very few of us do,
and can say
I love you.
For many love
is buried,
maybe tangled
in sex hurried.
It could be deep
in heart,
in a soul
torn apart.

LOve could be on the end
of a rainbow,
or played out in
a picture show.
It could be sleeping
alone at night,
love could be
buried in fright.
Quite a few search
the universe,
only to find 
loves worse.

Many fall on
their knees,
chase moon beams
through the trees,
fantasize to
no length,
to capture loves
true strength.
In the end
 lonely hearts,
dwell only as far
 as love starts.

G