If It’s Love

It cannot be rushed to grow

Or consumed greedily.

You cannot over water it

Or under water it

Over feed it

Or starve it to death.

If you leave it in darkness

With nothing –

It hibernates,

Still the beautiful love you had

In a much smaller version

More subdued

Quiet

Yet unrelenting

When you see it next

Pull it into you

It will have the same power

As when you attempted

To walk away from it.

If it is truly love

It doesn’t fade away

It simply grows dim

Until you face it again.

paper bag

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