The Shape of Love

Love is not loud, yet speaks so clear,

In silent glances, drawing near.

It’s not the storm, but softest rain,

That soothes the soul and heals the pain.

It grows in spaces left unspoken,

In pieces whole, though once were broken.

A fleeting touch, a steady hand,

A promise made we understand.

It lives in mornings kissed by light,

In holding on through darkest night.

Not always perfect, always true,

It changes shape and carries you.

A laugh, a tear, a whispered name,

A spark that time cannot reclaim.

It’s patience when the days are long,

A quiet heart that hums a song.

And though the world may twist and bend,

Love writes a truth that will not end.

A tale that starts in breath and skin—

And finds its home, not out, but in.