There is a place where love begins and a place
where love ends.
There is a touch of two hands that foils all dictionaries.
There is a look of eyes fierce as a big Bethlehem open hearth
furnace or a little green-fire acetylene torch.
There are single careless bywords portentous as a
big bend in the Mississippi River.
Hands, eyes, bywords--out of these love makes
battlegrounds and workshops.
There is a pair of shoes love wears and the coming
is a mystery.
There is a warning love sends and the cost of it
is never written till long afterward.
There are explanations of love in all languages
and not one found wiser than this:
There is a place where love begins and a place
where love ends--and love asks nothing.
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