“My love is shown through act of service”

When words dissolve like sugar in my tea,  
Still, love stands sturdy—rooted, quietly.  
My tokens aren’t of roses in a vase,  
But coffee poured and blankets tucked in place.

You’ll find it in the lunch packed every dawn,  
Or morning toast pressed gently, smile drawn on.  
In silent hours of mending buttons, seams,  
Or warming up the car, so steam still streams.

My hands learn well the language you require—  
Fixing, folding, carrying, kind and tireless squire.  
Love doesn’t always thunder, spark, or sing,  
Sometimes it’s errands run, the smallest thing.

I sweep the crumbs so peace can fill the room,  
I lift your burdens, though my arms assume  
No laurels for the effort, nor parade—  
My glad reward: your load a little swayed.

Please know my love is steadfast, rich but shy—  
It glows in sweated brow and lullaby,  
In every act of service, large or small,  
For you, my dearest, this is love’s pure call.

Create Your Own Poem | Recent Poems