Love And The Gifts It Commands

Love wears no gold, nor seeks the crown of kings, Yet holds dominion in a gentler way; With whispered words and soft, unspoken things, It takes the heart and bids it humbly to stay. No wealth of gems or lavish silk from you is sought, For love, in secret, makes its quiet own demands— A stolen glance, a tender touch is sought, The warmth of close-held dreams in strong clasped hands. It asks for patience, though the heart may ache, And yields its joy in fleeting, fragile light; Through laughter’s fire and sorrow’s cold embrace, Love grows like roots, deep-hidden in our dreams. And though the gifts it claims seem small and shy, They shape the soul, where our truest treasures hide.