Love is the frequent water
Flowing down the river,
Peaceful yet continuous,
With a touch that makes you quiver.

Love is the wind
On a hot summer day,
Cool yet promising,
In it’s own indulging way.

Love is the early morning sunrise
Along the eastern horizon,
Vivid yet enchanting,
On the hill that it lies on.

Love is the tears you shed
After deep heartbreak,
Painful yet inevitably depressing,
From putting your heart at stake.

Love is the impulsive pain
In the pit of my soul,
Crushed yet toyed with,
Why did you have to go?

Love was every moment
We spent together,
Fun yet unimaginably perfect,
My heart will remain in your hands forever.

By: Bethie Pennington
 
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