This page, so white,
without mark or blemish,
stares back at me.
It waits for my pen
and the ink
that will tell of love,
of what love is.
Blushing, blossoming,
in the gentle breeze
of a springtime meadow
Love is like a wildflower.
That perfumes the air.
Blazing, burning
in the long, hot days
of summer sands
Love is like a heatwave
that sets your world on fire.
Gold and gleaming
on the amber days
of autumn afternoons
Love is like a treasure
that glints for all to see.
Shy and shimmering
on the darkest night
of a winter storm
Love is like the North Star
that lights the way towards home.
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