What is love to me, for I am a man and have no need of it ?

When I was a small child, love was looking at my parents,
Knowing that they were always there and would loved me back
As I grew, the teenage years saw me childishly question that love,
as they imposed boundaries and I rebelled

As a very young man, it was not something of which to boast.
Love was what you spoke of to women in an effort to get your way
Love was not talked of between friends, nor admitted to oneself,
For I was a man, pretentious and full of youth

As I grew older, love became looking at a woman,
knowing that I wished to grow old with her.
It became the moment when I walked into my children’s bedrooms in the night,
And felt the warm back flip in my stomach as I kissed them

Now I am a grown man, and what need have I for love ?

I look at my parents and see their humanly failings, and yet still love them more
I look at the woman seeing her flaws as well as her beauty, and yet still I wish to grow old with her.
I look at my children, tears welling in my eyes as I think of how much they mean to me.
I think of friends, both here and passed. I cherish them, and their memory.

I am a man. And now, love to me is unconditional.