By Roberta Curley
LOVE is a gripping pas de deux.
LOVE cries recycled tears.
LOVE is Belgian chocolate
and Arkansas diamonds.
LOVE illuminates an infant’s face.
LOVE is choosing one person with
whom to spill the beans.
LOVE gallops at a heart’s pace.
LOVE stings when you overhear:
“What’s wrong with her?
She must be in love with that guy.”
LOVE him one minute — wish him vanished
the next? THAT’S TRUE LOVE.
