They told me love was butterflies,
A spark, a flutter, a fleeting high.
I believed in hearts that race,
In passion’s sweet, relentless chase.
But time, the teacher, whispers low:
Love is more than feelings show.

Look at those who’ve walked the years,
Through laughter bright and silent tears.
Do they still feel the fevered thrill,
Or something deeper, stronger still?
There are days they fight, they ache,
When love seems almost a mistake.

Yet in the anger, in the rain,
In moments of the deepest pain,
Love remains, a quiet force,
A steady hand that charts the course.
Not just a feeling, wild and free,
But a choice, a will, a loyalty.

So love is more than what we feel,
It’s what we build, it’s what we heal.
Through storms and calm, through wrong and right,
It’s what we hold, through darkest night.
A bond, a vow, a sacred art—
To love when it’s hardest on the heart.