by Dee Newman
Though often mistaken for desire,
Love is a gift without expectancies.
Having no wish to profit or acquire,
It aspires only to protect and please.
If they were judged by their consequences
The gifts that some proclaim to freely give
More nearly resemble mere pretenses
Of the heartfelt and the affirmative.
Shakespeare was right. Love will never alter
With time. Change cannot poison what is true.
Love at the edge of doom will not falter
Beneath stormy clouds or a sky of blue.
If you think this to be untrue, I trust,
That what you think is love, is only lust.
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