Love is a prism of light in spectral colors,
with laughs and tears in iambic pentameter;
hearts etched in marble outlast the Byzantium.

It’s a moment on an island
where it’s safe to be yourself
and your back is always scratched.

It’s white as the quiet of snow
with no place to go,
since you’re already there

It’s never embarrassed or bored
a soliloquy for two,
always brimming with avidity.

Love are fans of each other
cheery as the tinkle of bells
and moving as the gape of ocean swells.

It’s hot dogs and pickles
with blue summer skies,
and no villain or victim ever in view.

It’s sleeping and waking
on cold winter days, dreaming
of touches that easily blaze.

It’s planting a tree in a garden of freesias,
with plenty of sunshine
and just enough rain.

It’s a Hot Fudge Sundae
slathered in Cointreau
as we wind and grind to reggae.

It’s hands held forever,
breathing in unison
that generates heat.

It’s silent icons for each other,
and all that can be said in the end
by souls clenched together is: “Shalom chaver.”