I never wrote a piece on Love
I heard it fits us like a glove.
For some it's warm and airy light
for others rough and squeezing tight.
We wish to have it, not a doubt
so much we'd let the genie out.
To relish feeling close and dear
to know there'll be a time we tear.
By either joy, or broken heart,
As both entail a brand-new start.
A home we build as seasons turn,
Of moments past that won't return.
And if your heart is scared to feel,
Embraced by silence, cold and still.
I'll help you light it, make it burn,
A feeling I have had to learn.