Love To the Nice Man

The nice man asked me once a question, I gave some thought too, he seemed curious and entranced so I listen to what he said: What is love he asked is it just a mere word, since its widely spoken aloud by faithful hearts and deceitful mouths Is it but a weapon used to make grown men primitive and wild? And grown women hysterical, jealous and vile? Maybe it’s used to tame, make the men grovel make women beg Or maybe a state of being Maybe a state of mind Happy and coy, The dreamy smiles. The joy. I answered yes it’s a word, a word I want to tell you everyday Maybe it’s a weapon, one you’ve used to capture my heart. A state of being, for I am joyous, being here with you. Love is how it feels like to be with you.