What Is Love?

Her name is whispered across the morning,
The afternoon, eve, wherever you go,
In shadows and the idle sun's dawning,
Your closest ally, your desperate foe.
She is a panther - sneaking, pouncing, caught,
She is a blanket - comfort scent, calm, home,
She is a demon - lurking in each thought,
She is your sugar-high when you're alone.
Who or what is love? Oh, but who can say?
Is it an idyllic morning in bed?
Is it the broken dreams of yesterday?
Is it the instinct in our twisted heads?
Love - a splinter that reason can't remove,
That great wisdom, age nor sense can improve.