Love

I feel inspired to write of love,
As I sit by some flowers in the cool night air.
Everyone becomes a poet at its touch,
So my heart to yours I meekly share.

Who so loves believes the impossible,
The heart often sees, what’s invisible to the eye,
There are few who have loved to the extent the soul can,
Because there are only a few who have tried.

Life isn’t living unless you have loved,
And you haven’t loved unless you can see,
That love doesn’t simply fade away,
And that it’s as real as the flower growing next to me.

Flowers grow old though and eventually die,
But another grows in and replaces it,
This part of love though is what makes me cry,
That the fragrance of the first you will never forget.

God can only be the author of something so grand,
And we’re the ones of its defeat,
But would you wish to have never been touched at all,
By something so tender and sweet?

How can one forget the feeling of it?
And how can one be happy after it’s gone?
Like I said, God is the author of the very best love,
So let Him lead me on.

I sit by some flowers in the cool night air,
I watch the moon drift in and out of the clouds,
I imagine the most exquisite love so fair,
And feel the peace and truth it endows.

The greatest emotion of all is endowed from above,
It is to feel the heart of someone you once knew,
And to dream a child’s dream of being in love,
With your very best friend, whose friendship was true.

-Jacob Winterfeldt