Not a fire that burns and bites,
But a gentle warmth, in quiet nights.
Not a tempest's wild, untamed embrace,
But a steady hand, a tranquil space.
It's not the thrill of fleeting chase,
But a comfort found, a loving grace.
A quiet word, a knowing glance,
A shared silence, a hopeful dance.
It builds not walls, but bridges strong,
Where understanding flows along.
Through laughter shared, and tears that fall,
It stands unwavering, encompassing all.
It's in the small things, softly shown,
A hand held close, a heart well-known.
A whispered secret, soft and low,
A seed of trust, that helps to grow.
It's patient, kind, and ever true,
A steadfast light, that sees you through.
A love like this, a precious art,
A treasure held within the heart.
