Everybody knows the silly little word
Many times we've said it, many times we've heard
It is sometimes on, sometimes off,
and Divinity forbid that we should scoff
Yet if you were to ask
To pin its nature is no small task
For this word does everything you see,
People receive it, objects, and even me
Can you read it on a light?
Or must there be a graph in sight?
Can it come on its own?
Given? Stolen? Taken in loan?
Will it come automatically?
Or does it just depend on you or me.
I was told to write a poem about love, this is what came out.