The eye that beholds love, defines her.
The hand that caress her speaks of her pleasure.
But heart bruised by her, laments her poisonous taste.
To the psychiatrist love is the carnal of madness,
The doctor says it is the disease of the heart.
To the tourist, love is the mirror of unimaginable beauty
The lips, the perfect expression of love so paints the beautician.
To the student, it is an adventure worth the try.
The brewer says she is sweeter than wine.
The melodic duets with which we dance and swirl in unison like the tune of a dove so sings the musician.
To the merchant, her value is much more than silver and gold.
The florist says love is rose.
To the watchmen, the groans and moans of sex making at night is love.
The deceased says love is the killer that drives us to the grave.
To the dreamer, the fantasy that keeps us awake at night.
Let me not suffer the pain of love but in her arms, let me behold the sweetness of her name.