These are just limericks - they're not treatises on love, neither are they comments on the state of my own marriage which, I'm delighted to say, is as happy and as strong now as it has ever been.
They're just limericks, right?
I frequently sit up and wonder
Why my heart has been riven asunder
Is this really love,
This push and this shove,
Or just a great big, cosmic blunder?
And yet we keep on taking seriously
The notion we hold to deliriously
That love will win through;
It ain’t always true,
Though for many it is, mysteriously!
We marry ‘till death us do part’
And then we get bored – have a heart!
The first love is best,
But as for the rest,
They could be doomed, right from the start.
Love is a four-letter word.
So, for that matter, is turd.
Though love inspires art
We end up in Walmart,
Now, don’t you think that is absurd?
It really should be no surprise
That so many will come to despise
The loves of their lives,
Their husbands and wives.
(My limericks, of course, are all lies.)
This week's challenge at esthernewtonblog.wordpress.com asked for a limerick featuring the word love.