True Love

I'm looking through my eyes but I'm seeing …me
Me too, I'm looking through my eyes but I'm seeing …me
Does that mean we're in love?
My lips on your lips, but I'm feeling …me
Me too, my lips on your lips, but I'm feeling …me
Does THAT mean we're in love?
I just thought that it was time you got home
Yes, so did I, and I got home
THAT must mean that we're in love
I ironed your blue shirt
Yes, I know, I just put it on
I thought you might
Are we in love, or what?
I reckon, yes
What do you think?
I knew you'd think yes
Don't start that again!

©2004 Hey Hey

Thank God he didn't put in much more of the autoeroticism.

Was it Eric Fromm who said that the capacity to love starts with one's self? Something like that.

Rick either you or I need some tuition on how to interpret poetry. I had hoped that it might be seen as love being the merging of two minds such that one can see the other as him/herself. However, I have had to resort to the Blackbush to help solve this problem of interpretation and I have to say........ I just love Irish Whiskey !!!!!

And what's this about autoerrrrrrr....... at your age !!! Must be the Californian oranges. We just have plums here at this time of the year.

Hey, I've read it again. I see what you mean. Freud..... you're for the bin!

I like the way this one dances with perspective.

ANYTHING is poetry! Just ask...me. I hate conforming to the expectations of poetry, which is why most of my poems have no rythym and make little sense. I very much enjoyed the whimsy of this entry.

~Much Love~
Megan

Thanks for the comments everyone, much appreciated. So it is poetry (!)(?)