Poem of the weekLove
But the essence of live is how we live
The love of a parent for a child
With innocence born, still meek and mild.
Love can be given, it does not cost
Sometimes it is showered, but never lost.
It colours our lives like a brilliant gem,
You give it away and it returns again.
The language of love, it is sometimes said
Can be fiery and tempered yet never ill-read.
It is not always easy, maybe hard to define,
But clear to succumb, with a free heart and mind.
People have written over the centuries of time
How love’s own path is ever sublime.
It is beauty and seeing special things
Like a soaring bird, when your heart has wings.
Barbara Woolnough