Our many loves are but One Love;
One single cycle turning.
Some saggy drawers, some like a glove;
No form or depth discerning.
One washes over One to More;
He got more wet… or did She?
It matters not – we’re at the shore;
All splashing gaily… giddy.
There’s no use saying “like a bro”
Or “come to bed” nor “holy”
The Greeks may have dissected so
We choose to love all wholly
Sound like the sixties? “Just love, man”
They may have had a point there
In decades since, we’ve sought to ban
The thought that we could LoveShare
Our many loves are but One Love;
One single cycle turning.
Some saggy drawers, some like a glove;
No form or depth discerning.
defying atrophy 
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