Benicia Love Poem: Love Is…

Love Is… by Peter Bray

Love is knowing that you’re OK
and I’m OK and we’re all OK.
Love is staying in touch
all these years either by
e-mail, voice mail, cell phone;
dinner in or out, whenever,
wherever, whatever...

Love is becoming an Internet researcher
and trying to find out everything
there is to know about all
the maladies on the planet.

Love is paving over the mistakes
of the past 20 or 30 years and saying
I’m sorry, more than once and again.
Love is doing the dishes in the morning
before I go to work, and before
I leave the house.

Love is doing the cat box before
I’m asked to do the cat box.
Love is being stitched together
at the jacket shoulders,
boots tied together with rope,
walking when you walk,
listening when you talk,
and you doing the same for me.
Love is being your Wingman,
and you being mine.

Love is imagination set loose,
harnessed in, focused a little,
and then released again.

Love is everything constructive,
trying to make up for everything
that isn’t.

Love burns us up, repairs us,
but even the heart must rest
between beats.

Love is ten million stitches
in a handmade quilt and
sleeping under each one.
Love is everything,
and everything else is just not.