Madeliefie’s Question: What Is This Thing Called Love Poem by Margaret Alice

What is this thing called love - that makes you
hold me when I cry, even though you might be
the cause of my tears; that makes you hold me
while watching TV; that makes you unwilling
to let me go off by myself, that makes you angry
when I get my dates crossed – then forgive me
again; how is it that you still love me after all this
time; and all the things I have done?

When I was young I vowed never to marry and
repeat the mistakes of my elders; then I met you,
so strong, angry and kind at the same time; life
seemed so rich in nuance - you made me feel so
secure with the innocent trust in your eyes, your
refusal to tell any lies, your insistence on quality
of life, your consistent deference to consideration
as an unbreakable rule …

When my family tried to fit you into their mould,
living life all confused; you stood firm in your own
rule–based ideals; you anchor me - wildly gyrating –
to reality; allowing me to go off and play in my fantasy –
always insisting I return before getting caught in the
twilight of dreams, calling me back from the brink of
the fairy realm where vision and dream become
so intertwined I lose track of space and time

Though my soap bubble world explodes and I
crash with a bump, I’m always safely received
in your arms; finding I’m greatly treasured in
your heart and mind…