During the struggle, love can pull us up
When comfort and warmth can’t be found, we can still reach for love
Because in the end, it shows us the way
But what is love exactly? Love might be a dream, a silent reverie
It might be everyone’s fate. Or is it nothing but an illusion?
Love remains a theme dearest to poets' hearts
Whom will never stop intriguing us
With their various styles and love readings.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
During the struggle, love can pull us up
When comfort and warmth can’t be found, we can still reach for love
Because in the end, it shows us the way
But what is love exactly? Love might be a dream, a silent reverie
It might be everyone’s fate. Or is it nothing but an illusion?
Love remains a theme dearest to poets' hearts
Whom will never stop intriguing us
With their various styles and love readings.
Request permission to use this poem