Love is a Loose Word
by MFrostDelaney

Sometimes it’s said with vows and golden rings
or backseat in a car with windows steamed
or in a birthing room with a first-born

Sometimes it wears so well it’s nightly said
before the lights go out, between the cloak
of covers wrapping mates, the kids secure

Sometimes these are the daily fantasies
of loneliness while waiting for “the one”
in pick-up bars or socials at a church

And sometimes, if the fantasy’s fulfilled,
the words get comfy, like some well-worn shoes
and may get tossed aside, but always kept

Or be like bangles on a wrist adorned
for show, then laid into a jewelry box
to keep the luster new, protect the sheen

But most of all …

It’s in the shelter where the homeless find
a bath, clean socks, a bed, a book, the food
that keeps them fed, some bread, tomato soup,

the open arms to refugees on shore,
fresh clothes, a place to work where they can earn
respect and friendship sought in a new land,

a place to pray, or not, so as they wish
and not be judged by color, creed or kin.
And if they find their God or peace, they might
discover love’s a word that holds them tight



 

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