"What is love?" she asked me suspiciously,
convinced a correct answer there could never be,
and I, speaking in frank sincerity,
responded to her indubitably,
"The look in our eyes, as you will see,
when you have reached eighty-five and three,
with an empty bald head dry as an oak tree,
possessing but one tooth (in the shape of a vee),
and I roll over to you in utmost humility,
kiss your cracked lips, then die in your arms blissfully."