What is love, I asked
A little boy of seven
“When she lends you her favourite pen,
and smiles like an angel from heaven.”
What is love, again I asked
This time a spunky young maiden
“Oh, when he sends you flowers and gifts,
and phones you twenty-four seven.”
What is love, I questioned
The middle-aged man on the street
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m running late. I can’t
lose this job, I have mouths to feed.”
What is love, I wondered aloud
Old Grandma passing by heard
“It’s hearing tenderness in the gruff,
forgiving seventy times seven past hurts."
What is love indeed?
1 comment:
True. Different people see love differently. And yet it's the same love they all speak of. :)
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