Love is patient, likes to watch things grow
at their own pace. Friendship, seeded by chance
becomes a sacred grove where we may go
for shelter and delight; and children dance
to life's unfolding rhythms as they learn
that there's a time to rest, a time to run,
a time to wait, a time to take your turn.
Love keeps no score of wrongs; it feels the pain
both of unmeant and of deliberate slights,
but will not let the dross of them congeal
and clog the soul, or plague with restless nights.
Love blesses what we do and what we feel:
a light in darkness, bridge across the abyss,
a father lifting up, a mother's kiss.
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