"For I am Love....", by Thomas M. Ircink

I am like the rose of red, in its purest beauty and yet

can be so ugly that on one dare look upon me.

I have shape and form, still I am found without either.

I am as happy as a river going to places not known to men,

I am as sad as all the tears that can be shed.

I am kind, yet can be harsh.

I am gentle yet can cause the greatest of hurts,

I am found in all places and in all things, yet I am found

only by those who seek me.

There is but one key that can open my door, one word that

need be spoken and I shall understand.

I am many things and still I am one.

I am more yet the least of things, but what is more true

than false is that I am that scar, which no doctor can heal.

For I am love.

My Uncle Tom (one year younger than Dad) passed away in 2003 at the age of 65. He enjoyed writing poetry. I never knew. Some of his brothers and sister were aware of Uncle Tom's penchant for writing; however, and Aunt Evelyn gave me all his papers - the plan is to put together a self-published book of Uncle Tom's poetry.

Happy Valentine's Day, Uncle Tom. I - we all miss you.