Love

The air is love to the lungs.

The sight of beauty is love to the eyes,

Which know nothing about the truth inside.

The food is love to the tongue,

Savoring every bite.

The fuel is love to the fire.

The memories you hold, good or bad,

Are love to the mind.

The earth is love to the trees,

More of a love than the ax against its bark.

The cold is love to the ice,

And not at all to the children,

Longing for summer skies.

I want to be love to your pure and loving soul,

That protects itself by building walls,

That never lets its guard down,

The love your finally willing to let through.

I want to be love in the way,

Water is love to the body,

Not because I did anything different,

But because I always just was myself,

All because you can't let go of a heart,

So true to itself.