Love isn’t always fireworks,
Sometimes it’s gentle rain —
The way you fold my laundry
When my day’s been full of pain.
It’s coffee brewing softly
Before the morning light,
Your fingerprints on windowpanes,
Your warmth at lonely nights.
It’s how you know my silence,
The words I cannot say,
The battles that I’m fighting,
The prayers I rarely pray.
It’s dancing in the kitchen
When dishes need to wait,
It’s holding hands through thunderstorms,
And trusting in our fate.
Sometimes it’s in the arguing,
The tears we need to shed,
The healing and forgiving,
The words we should have said.
It’s finding gray hairs together,
And loving them the same,
It’s seeing beauty deepen
Beyond youth’s fleeting flame.
It’s grocery store decisions,
And bills we need to pay,
It’s choosing one another
Through every passing day.
Love isn’t in the perfect —
It’s in the perfectly flawed,
It’s in the daily choosing,
When easier to walk abroad.
It’s in the quiet moments
When no one else can see,
The thousand tiny choices
That make up you and me.
So keep your grand gestures,
Your diamonds and your pearls —
I’ll take our shared breaths softly
Against a sleeping world.
For love’s not in the saying,
But in the daily done —
Two hearts that keep choosing,
Until two become one.
In wrinkles and in laughter,
In sickness and in health,
In poverty or plenty,
In simpleness or wealth —
Love speaks in quiet whispers,
In actions small and true,
In all the ways you show me,
And all the ways I love you too.
Sometimes love is better expressed in the spaces between words than in the words themselves.