Is how I would answer if
a child were to ask me,
'What is love?
That would be easier than
admitting the truth.
'I know it is as essential
as breath, if not more so.
I know it defies rationality.
If you want to know anything else
about love, then go ask the old
Chinaman who is always walking
back and forth on Mad Anthony Street,
or the purple-haired fortune teller
who lives at the bottom of Vinegar Hill.
Then again, perhaps they have no idea
what love is, either. Perhaps none of us do.
And maybe that mystery is what makes
love be love.'
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bird-made-of-flames/
