Dear Love,

Dear Love,

You are the timeless force that guides our lives,

The whisper in the wind, the pull of the tide,

Ever present, shaping our hearts,

A silent prayer we utter in the quiet of our minds.

Her skin is sacred like Sunday morning,

bathed in light that’s soft, yet bright,

her lips taste of everything the tongue ever craves,

like honey dripped from heaven’s gate,

an elixir of sweet promises and dreams.

Her mind, oh! how it’s my favorite place to read,

each thought a line in a book I cannot put down,

pages filled with wisdom and wonder,

where I lose myself in stories untold,

unraveling mysteries in the margins of her soul.

I sometimes unwrap her like poetry unwraps thoughts,

peeling back layers of guarded emotions,

opening her up like books unlock hidden parts,

unafraid to explore the secrets she keeps,

diving deep into the ocean of her being.

Dear Love, we appreciate what you do to our hearts,

how you elevate us, make us feel alive,

yet how you disappoint our minds,

when we stumble, fall at your feet,

left in pieces, trying to understand the chaos.

Continue to reign and give us hope,

continue to provide warmth in cold, confusing nights,

be the beacon that guides us through life’s stormy seas,

the fire that keeps us warm when the world turns gray,

our sanity in a world that’s lost its way.

Yours dearly,

Sunday Afternoons.