Love is When the Wind Whispers

Love is when the wind whispers
my name as I rest here.
Love is the memory of Grandpa's smile
and the touch of his ghost near.

Love is the taste of blackberry pie
my Grandma baked decades ago.
Love is winters spent with them
and the flavor of flakes of snow.

Love is the smell of secrets past
soaked deep within a hope chest.
Letters from my mother to my father
when she knew she loved him best.

Love is the sound of a baby
calling Mama for the first time.
Love is the sound of his name
as I answer his call in rhyme.

What is love my son will ask
one day when he is grown.
And I will answer with the wind
the memories I've known.