Love doesn't have to rhyme.
It doesn't have to be shouted from the rooftops,
or written in the stars.
Yet it is a poets job to make it so
To elaborate, exaggerate, compare it to the incomparable,
Capture the unsnareable, share the unshareable.
Like fingers finding fingers in the dark,
or tender hugs holding grief at bay.
The conversation of her eyes through a teardrop,
saying more than a million words could convey.
And this is where we find the meaning of love,
in the quiet moments where no words are spoken.
Where tender kisses and soft touches
become a dance to the rhythm
of two hearts beating in unison, under a lover's moon.
Shared only in the reflections of their eyes.
