Of Such Is The Quality Of Love Poem by Denis Martindale

To find another,
with a heart as wonderful as your own,
isn't rare,
but if they love you
as much as you love them,
that truly is rare
and that, of course,
is the most precious rare of them all...

To find that one true love,
the lovelorn must explore,
seek that which is beyond words,
far beyond the five senses,
for love is as sensual
as the rising of the sun,
like the first falling of snowflakes,
or the cascading of waterfalls,
or the joyous smiles of dolphins...

Love is that first sharp intake of breath,
that first realisation of admiration,
that first gulp that signals a secret within,
that coy nervousness as the one admired knows,
that they have some power over you...

Call it a bewitchment, an enchantment,
call it but an illusion, merely a game,
yet true love can become serious in a heartbeat,
overwhelming all reason, robbing the senses,
ask anyone who's been kissed and kissed good...

Despite all thoughts of self-preservation,
the one in love falls captive to hopes and dreams,
caresses entwining, the holding of hands,
the subtle soft whispers ear-to-ear,
the sharing of future plans together...

Oh, may the King of Love be merciful,
on those too fast in love,
forgetting past mistakes of yesteryears gone by,
too easily impressed with pressed lips,
perhaps the perfumes in the air,
perhaps the fine clothes and their colours...

For what is love to be esteemed as much?
Is it not like any other social dance?
Full of twists and turns, close-up and personal,
yet sometimes not in its fullest harmony,
a few missed steps here and there,
with some pretence that all is well...

More honest is the sitting together, merely talking,
Without insincere flatteries, just gentleness,
just the tenderness in a smile or two now and then,
with sudden silences that speak volumes,
for that one right there, could really be the one...
right... there...


Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2013.