Where is love?

Love is in the morning dew, 

Lining up in a café queue,  

To drink up a shot of espresso. 

Love turns and looks at you,  

Finding the same hazel eyes,  

Within a room of blues and browns.  

Love is waiting on your doorstep,  

Wiping up the frown the moment,  

You see her twirl in her yellow dress.  

Love is adding another text,  

After the end of a conversation. 

A question that increases the connection.  

Love is growing old,  

In sickness and in sorrow 

In the health that you borrow  

And the laughter that you share without care.  

by Priya Singh