What is a flame? Where does it go
When breath snuffs out its magic

glow?

What is a flower? With no eyes to see
 
Could one imagine its symmetry?
What is a sound? How picture a

word

To one who never a voice has heard?
And Oh, What is love?
 
Till I felt a flame
Till I smelled a flower, Till I breathed

A name

These simple things were a mystery   .   .   .
Love is still but a word to me.

^__May Williams Ward.