The three women sat on the old divan,
Reclining and drinking blackberry wine,
As they laughed and opened up their hearts,
The first one swirls her glass and starts,
“I think love is like a starry night.
So vast and dark, and yet divine.”
The second one says, “No, it’s like,
Broken glass, beautiful, shiny,
But cuts so fast.”
The third one sighs, says,
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve lovers,
Not love, and they come and go.”
And the women, they talk,
And scheme and describe,
And finally agree love,
Cannot be defined.