May Love be More Than a Word

Love isn't just a word;

it's action and feeling

and inspiration.

It's barely a noun,

okay as a verb.

It's better as an adjective,

but best as a ritual of devotion.

Before I knew you,

I barely remembered the word.

It was something said in a hurry,

when you left an unpleasant house.

It was cold, uncalculated,

it was a way to say goodbye,

when you walked out into the rain without a coat on.

It was how you passed condolences, 

after an unresolved argument.

I love you, I said, even though you 

never truly meant it when you said it to me.

I too had said it too many times,

without much feeling in it.

It was a dead word;

 stale and overused and limp from abuse.

Like using black to describe night,

or bright as the sun.

It's meaning lost to limited vocabulary.

I let the L word rest in the graveyard of the dictionary.

I needed to put it back into action,

breathe it back into being.

I learned the quirks of people and animals and plants, 

and other livings things.

I'd remember your dreams, and when we'd meet again,

 I'd ask you how they were coming along.

What was your favorite food?

Can I make that for you?

How is your dog? Your cat?

Are you sleeping well?

Have you seen the full moon?

I infused meaning back into that dreaded 4-letter word. 

I took its immateriality of

consonants and vowels and rebuilt it.

Day by day, I made my life an expression of it.  

That forbidden word may never leave my lip to meet your ears,

but I hope I've expressed it in more tangible ways.