Love is waiting and receiving the good things that He has promised unto you. Love is listening to the gentle patter of rain drops on your window sill on a Saturday morning.
Love is grabbing the fruit pack that Mothers prepares each morning. Love tells you that you are a precious daughter.
Love sends you the morning text message saying he loves you and misses you. Love is the achy little pang that you feel at the end of a work day, thinking of him andhis cheeky smile.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. Love is the smile that comes from tasting the little morsels from the tupperware.
Love is committing to listen to his ventilations, grouses and pants of emotional turmoil. Love is speaking encouragement into those late hours and telling him everything is okay.
Love is sharing the cardigan in the icy cold cinema. And then being distracted the rest of the show. Love is the presence of His grace that hugs you close in deep worship.
Love is choosing not to answer with biting words or to drip with sarcasm. Love does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil.
Love is savoring the packet of fried bee hoon while the rain continues to drip on Saturday morning. Love is persisting on despite the differences. The differences that appear to be important.
Love tells you that you are gorgeous without eyeliner, concealer or powder. Love chooses to put those on so that you will look good for him.Or for yourself. Or both.
Love giggles at the memories of late nights at East Coast Park. Love remembers light drizzles, long conversations and warm cuddles. I heart ECP.
Love defends your boy from difficult questions. Questions that seek to undermine him. Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.
Love sacrifices sleep for long phone talks, 3am maggi goreng and unending hugs. Love is sharing your life reflections and journey over a tipple of merlot.
Love is discipline in action. Of values, faith and walking with Him. Love finds the perfect fit beween his lips and yours.
Love wants us to grow old together. Do sexagenarians still make love? Let us find out. Love is the unbridled clawing of your back during those moments. Moments of unrestrained passion.
Love transforms a girl into a woman. Girls like. Women love. Love bears all things, believes all things, hope all things and endures all things.
For eyes that are shining, for cheeks like the dawn,
For beauty that lasts after girlhood has gone,
For prices in reason the women who know
Now buy their cosmetics from Aesclyptoe.
Fletcher, Winston. 2010. Advertising. A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press.
We all are, one way or another.
Some seek inwardly, others on what they see.
The eyes deceive and we know it. But we enjoy it anyway. I do. I think you do too.
For the inner secrets, where else does one go but to the bits of written prose and poetry left behind by the masters?
The lithe of youth, the cunning mind. The ways of the world, of commerce, culture and cookery.
Passion sublimated and iron rage tempered by stillness. Chilly winds still the body and the breath stills the mind.
Sweet honey in the rock.
In the library.