A couple well into their golden years, still holding hands as they walk,
The flowers or the card you got, even though it’s no holiday.
The parents who give their all, never wanting for themselves
The nervous man, or woman, on bended knee, fumbling for the right words,
The tears of a parent’s first hello,
The tears of a lover’s goodbye.
I’d like to think these are metaphors for love
Though scarcely a few I must say
Take the time to look around
You’re bound to see some every day.
All the love songs and their lyrics
And all the poems and all the prose.
Can’t compare one single bit
To what the heart doesn’t tell, but instead shows.
