The definition of love

All the poets write about love.

They either talk of its wonderful presence.

Or its haunting absence.

They describe the excitement of it entering your life.

As well as the emptiness when it inevitably leaves.

But what even is love?

Is it big grand gestures?

Like shouting your love from the top of the mountains

And like proposing in front of the Eiffel Tower?

Or is it the small quiet gestures?

Like knowing how you like your eggs done

And bringing you cut fruit when you're working?

I have always struggled with picking sides.

And I struggle with it even now.

So I would say love is all of those things and much more.

After all, they say to define is to limit.

And for all I know, if there's a limit to it,

Then it isn't love in the first place.