Dedicated to my loving father, Elsan H. Stafford, a great novelist and noble man, who passed away on January 14, 2007, at age 93, of natural causes. You are now among the greatest of prose writers, Dad. Thomas Wolfe and Edgar Allan Poe. Oh, how I envy them the nonpareil company they keep! Yes, this poem is for my beautiful, inimitable father, and is also about love. What it is and how we should feel and treat it. And cherish it.

The Wind

I can tell you what love is...in a windy way,
When a storm looks imminent and the clouds are gray.
It's running in the rain...just to capture one kiss,
Ah, from someone whose every breath you fear to miss!

It's seeing the wind blowing in your lover's hair,
And inhaling the sight of it as you would air!
And then incur the stark storm into your embrace
Ah, but to see one smile upon your lover's face!

For it is when death or darkness intervenes,
Intent upon making love forget what it means!--
From loving someone truly with all of your heart
Forever and a day...till death do us part!

Yes, I'll tell you what love is...in a windy way,
Though it endures a cold, dark or bright windy day.
Or you spend it all in endless turmoil and strife!--
Ah, love is loving one loving soul more than life.
(Like leaves love trees and the sand the seas...without end,
Love is loving someone like the clouds love the wind.)