If I could find the words to define love, they would be found in a poem written by the great,  Roy Croft.

“Love”

I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am when I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what You have made of yourself,
But for what You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand into my heaped-up heart
And passing over all the foolish, weak things
that you can’t help dimly seeing there.
And for drawing out into the light
all the beautiful belongings that no one else
had looked quite far enough to find.

I love you

because you are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern but a temple;
Out of the works of my every day
Not a reproach but a song.

I love you
Because you have done more than any creed
could have done to make me good,
And more than any fate to make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it
By being yourself.                   

Perhaps that is what being a friend means, after all.

~Sigh~

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Penelope

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