I think - though I'm not sure -
that loving someone might be
(might be)
not giving up looking for them
when it all seems
hopeless.

When everyone else has got bored
and gone home,
and it's just you - alone, ignored -
looking for them.

And they clearly aren't coming back
(but they will come back!)
and the world shakes its head
and mutters about your lack
of common sense.

But you look anyway:
behind every gate;
under every stone;
in every cupboard -
Why would they be in there?
the world smirks.

And then a tap on the shoulder -
you turn around and stare
in awe. Becasue there they are.
But instead of yelling: "I told you so!"
to the world, you forget it all,
and just pick up where you left off.

Because love - though I'm not sure -
doesn't care about yesterday or tomorrow,
and doesn't search for cause or cure.

It lives for now. Because, sunny or grey,
the only thing I'm sure of is today.