“love”

Love is the hush between two laughs,  
A lantern glowing down the lane—  
A gentle brush of autumn grass,  
A whisper softer than the rain.  

It’s rooted deep in morning light,  
In cups of tea the hands prepare;  
A warmth that lingers through the night,  
A secret carried in the air.  

It weaves through letters never sent,  
In glances bridged across a room.  
It’s memory and sweet intent,  
A blush of hope where roses bloom.  

Not always thunder, sometimes dew—  
Not always fire, but often bread;  
It’s little things that lovers do,  
The quiet words so often said.  

For love is stitched with fragile thread  
Of patience worn and promises true;  
And in each heart it finds a bed—  
A world remade for just us two.

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