Love is a climb, a winding hill,
A rush of joy, a test of will.
It lifts you high, it pulls you low,
A dance of warmth, a fire’s glow.
In moments sweet, you touch the sky,
But storms may come, and hearts may cry.
The peaks are bright, the valleys deep,
Yet in its wake, your soul will leap.
It’s the quiet night, the sudden spark,
The whispered truths when times are dark.
Love doesn’t promise to stay still,
It moves with time, it bends your will.
Through every fight, through every tear,
Love’s pulse remains, though faint or near.
For even in the hardest fall,
It whispers softly: rise, stand tall.
So know that love, in all its flight,
Has highs and lows, and wrongs and right.
Yet through the storm and quiet sound,
True love will always be around.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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