Love is but a journey
with no map or expertise required.
With dreams keen, triumphant,
each seeks never to die, become expired.
Roads—long, dark and narrow—
promises, longing for love, romance?
Would you, could you, should you, take the chance?

Love is but a journey
in slippers, sandals … bare feet aren’t barred.
Love, infatuation …
when your hearts broken are you sad, jarred?
Roads—ever winding, steep—
will you give your heart away … for keeps?
What if it’s stolen by lousy creeps?

Love is but a journey;
there is no passport needed … for you
to dissolve in ones’ arms
but, it’s another road to ‘I do’.
Roads—some are true dead ends—
but if you fail to go on, don’t care,
you will never reach ecstasy’s lair.