True Love Poem by Jacob macharia

True Love



Long love waits,
The beautiful ones not yet born,
But still absence makes the heart
to grow fonder.
Who to love and treasure while the rest,
as sign posts, become my sole-counterparts?

Who can after all,
Blind the eye of the beholder,
And turn all fruits into apples?
That who can forsake her love
To an underdog mere fellow
who always appear queer-some?

That whose vivacity and charming lot
Can for once drive a normal man crazy,
An indefatigable lad stupid,
And a curious being settle,
And whose suspense always superimposes love.

That who cherish love most
And count money lust as the last alternative,
That whose motives always builds and
emblazons tomorrow with hope.
That whose endurance leave a lot to be admired
and not desired, and lure every moment to liveliness.

But: the 64 million dollar questions;
Which are the signs of a true lover?
How can one distinguish her from a bunch of grapes?
What stands between her and the next confluence?
And finally how will it start or end?

Just but too inquisitive and still,
The fact remains; Love is blindness,
The cliche holds; Love sown in time bears fruits,
And the truth stands; Love pays.
Then which end hangs reality and
The end or beginning of TRUE LOVE?

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