Love is fertile soil; it’s where things grow.
Love is more than adornment; it’s not just for show.
It’s the comfortable pace—not the sprint or the rush.
It’s more profound than like.
It is not volatile like lust.
Love comes warm when you are cold.
It’s a companion through pain—a comfort through sorrow.
Love delights in the good.
Love wades through the muck.
Love rolls up its sleeves and does the hard work.
Love laughs, love cries, love believes, love tries.
It holds your hand and engages your mind.
Love lends you courage when fear courses through your being.
Love harbors no illusions.
Love sees what’s worth seeing.
Love has deep roots; love has long arms.
Love is for life; it does not run out.