“Love”

Love is a lantern, trimmed at dusk’s cool hand,  
Casting a honey-gold glow across the land.  
It dances in silence on midnight’s soft floor,  
A hush in the hallway, a crack in the door.

Love is the murmur that rides on the breeze,  
A waltz in the garden beneath willow trees.  
It shapes every shadow, yet brightens each day,  
It’s the promise unspoken when words slip away.

Love is a letter, scrawled wild on a page,  
A laugh that erupts at the turn of an age.  
It’s the hand held in darkness, the courage to trust,  
A gentle persistence that conquers the rust.

Love is the memory inked on the skin  
Of moments that show us where we’ve all been.  
It’s old winter sweaters and June’s sudden rain,  
It’s heartbreak and mending, new hope grown from pain.

Love is not perfect—it tangles and bends—  
Yet it finds every ending and stitches amends.  
A tapestry lived in, unravel or weave,  
Love is what stays when it’s time to leave.

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