Anew it once was
now withered, the glamorous sheen of splendour dimmed
Time plays the age old trick
of turning us all old
though should we not welcome
this ageing like fine wine
rather than be weary of its inevitability?

Love cannot flourish if Time were not to play its part
for Love can only be conceived as true and splendid
when weathered with the cruelty of chances and difficulties
but those storms bring more harmony than destruction
tethering those bound forever more together
Love is true in its promise
It’s only people who aren’t
So let not the world fool you
into thinking
Love is pointless
It is not
It never will be

A beauty that never fades in its glory
Love truly holds wonders in its warm security for those that know well of its treasures it nurses for the destined and lucky ones