In the morning, I think love is like the dawn. Revealing softly, filling the world with color, awakening heart and soul to possibility, weaving, as with their call, the songbirds create a tapestry of hope and wonder.
At noon, I think love is like the fullness of the day. Now we lie among the shadow play, caressed by the billowing curtains that fill and sway. Languid and lazily intent, she murmurs, “Stay, no rush.” And softly, I obey.
In the evening, I think love is like the sunset. Filling the sky with awe, making all magical and mysterious with shadow. Leading us on with a secret smile.
All through the day, I feel the flow of love; her moods and murmurs like water, always moving, caressing as she passes. All through the day, in every hour, there is love. I call out and feel the echo return through me in ripples that ever spread and ever return.