Love isn’t a feeling
Love isn’t an action
Love isn’t a person
Love is a place.

It’s the cave of wonders
It’s a hospital room filled with new life, balloons, and flowers
It’s an altar in a church in the countryside of a town unknown
while a man pleads for the soul you’re not ready to give.
It’s a tent pitched next to the lake while fish cook over a crackling fire

It’s a home with a swing-set in the backyard with a dog tied to a banana tree, while naked children dance through sprinklers.
It’s the treehouse in the neighbor's backyard
It’s a living room where friends sit and play Nintendo 64
It’s a bathtub with bubbles and a book and a beverage

Love isn’t butterflies in your stomach
It’s a butterfly garden at the city zoo on a hot Saturday morning
with butterflies flittering and fluttering and flattering around.

Love isn’t jumping in front of a train for someone
It’s the parking lot of a hospital you run through to stand by a death bed, reading from a Bible you haven’t opened in twenty years.

Love isn’t your parents or brothers or sisters or cousins or friends
It’s the patio screened in, with the rain tap dancing on its roof,
while a father of three snores peacefully in a rocking chair.

Love is Calvary’s hill
It’s a trustworthy bank
It’s a dog kennel jam-packed with the loyal, the faithful, the brave, and the true
Love is an underground railroad connecting those who belong together.