Thoughts on Love in a pandemic - April 2020

Is love real or imagined?

I fear I know not what it is.

It has a name, an emotion but still

Difficult to define.

It can be sex, or passion, or neither

It can be friendship or love of daughters and sons.

I find it creeps up on me

New friends too have entered my world of love.

My dear husband of so many years

A love so desperately deep I find it hard not to weep

We are the lucky ones who love and in return are loved.

All that time ago when I was blessed 

By a young doctor who savd my life

And in return lost his.

Now is the time to say thanks.

NB: in 1940 aged 5, a young Polish newly qualified doctor, acquired some of the first penicillen for me when I had double pneumonia.  He was killed the next year on his way to battle.