Love Is.....

Love is….

Love is this.
Love is the end and the beginning
Of our story, our memories,
That we should write down and
Never will.

Love is the narrator in our tale
That guides us towards each other
In the middle of the night,
Where we dream with clutched hands
And close faces.

Love is the mythical aspect in our
Otherwise ordinary existence,
Linear, broken by passionate outcries
Only very occasionally.

Love is not a metaphor for us,
It is the reason I smile into your eyes
On the greyest of mornings,
Before padding down the hallway
To make cups of tea.
Early morning rituals,
Repeated endlessly,
Embalming our love into tokens
We do not need, but enjoy.

Love is the sunlight that brightens your face
When you sit by me,
The warmth I have begun to yearn for.

Love is being together
Without words, or thoughts, or even silence.
The cathartic moments pass by
In our everyday bliss.

Love is simply this.
Love is us, in this moment,
Making promises to love one another,
To stay in this moment.
Reborn, rekindled, making memories
Anew to share.
Happy endings to read aloud,
The very best bedtime stories,
Before we sleep with clutched hands
And close faces.