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Love is a Pack Mule
A four letter word spoken in a fraction of a minute,
Carrying so much inside it:
It carries tears,
It carries promises,
It carries years,
It carries kisses.
It carries hopes:
Hearts awoken.
It carries living and crushed dreams:
Hearts broken.
For the longest time,
It was love that drove me,
To search for the girl that would eventually be mine,
It was love that carried me.
Love lead me to you, and you to me,
We climbed onto its back,
We held each other as we rode it; free.
We looked into each others eyes, and braced for the journey without a map.
Love is real,
Love is true,
Love is a lonely heart’s next meal,
Love is an exhausted, weathered, old, Pack Mule.
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