There’s a
Type of
Love which
Most people
Assign great
Value they
Consider it
The love
The best
Love or
Grandest love
The one
Love and
The forever
Love the
Marriage love
And the
Affectionate love
The love
Of rings
And promises
And oh
The love
That the
Creator anoints
But really
That love
Like so
Many others
Is just
A love
A present
Love no
It’s not
Puppy love
Or giggly
Love or
Summer love
Or even
The friendship
Love try
Not to
Pander to
Hierarchies of
Love just
Love simply
And beautifully
As a
Child I
Wasn’t allowed
To play
With others
Simply because
I couldn’t
Refusing to
Share what
I’d had
And now
Even older
I am
Learning to
Remove my
Protective arms
From around
My treasures
Thus allowing
Others to
Play with
Them too
It’s a
Simple thing
Something for
You to
Keep wrapped
In some
Paper and
Tucked away
For those
Chilly and
Rainy November
Nights when
Fallen leaves
Decoupage the
Streets and
Stick to
The bottoms
Of shoes
Don’t expect
Much really
It’s just
A bit
Of me
For you
In words
Like these
Dear Bean
My last
Love affair
Certainly built
My resistance
To love
But once
I saw
You I
Knew that
No matter
My inoculation
I would
Soon once
Again show
Those gnawing
Symptoms that
Rash that
Flush those
Sweats and
Knew right
There that
You were
Simply contagious
And so
We’ve both
Lost things
And neither
Returned to
Look for
Them knowing
That they
What we’d
Find wasn’t
What we
Lost yet
We found
Each other
And while
As not
Shiny and
New and
With a
Few dings
We are
What we
Are to
Ourselves and
Now to
Each other
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 