Don’t Talk to Me of Love

Talk to me of anything,
If you please, everything
But love.
It is a topic over-exploited,
More like an onion too sauteed.

What is it with everyone,
Each relative and that unknown bun,
Who lives in “loveland?”
Don’t they have anything else to think?
Is this the only way they find to sink?

Talk to me of nature —
Diversified in its great stature,
Of rivers and moors,
Of stars and animal-kinds.
But don’t say in it love one finds.

Talk to me of art —
Right from the very start,
Of how it changed,
Of how it is going on.
But don’t say it’s mostly love gone.

Talk to me of hard facts —
Whether science or maths,
Of beam and experiment,
Of theory and equation.
But don’t say usually love is the solution.

Talk to me of life —
Happiness and strife,
Of the impressionable past,
Of the future you imagine.
But don’t say it’s love that it’s dripping in.

Talk to me of hate —
For that lies surely in wait,
Of oneself and others,
Of the known and unknown.
But don’t say it’s because there, love is not fully grown.

Talk to me of a topic
Not so myopic
As love.
For I have heard enough already.
Now I wish to make my head steady.

If still insistent,
In your “for love” endeavour persistent,
Then one chance I give you.
Show me love.
Don’t just lecture me on love.

Show love to the one who loves you.
Show love to the one who hurts you.
If still left with more,
Show some love to yourself.
But prior, don’t talk to me of love by itself.