It’s anchoring, the only known truth

For a baby in a mother’s womb

It’s playful and protective

For parents of a child abloom

It’s joyful, of laughter and shared secrets

For friends who walk beside each other

It’s full of shared history

For siblings who have grown up together

It’s gratitude

For those who raised and taught us

It’s compassion

For those weaker and will come after us

As a newly sprouting bud

It’s buoyant and heady

Tempestuous, with growing pains

In adolescence moody

It’s comforting and accepting

As it ages and matures

Varied are it’s hues

Soothes, uplifts, enraptures

At times loud and clear

At times barely holding on

At times rosy

At times shrouded by thorns

From gnarled hands to chubby fingers

It flows, touching all in its wake

Like the one sun that casts myriad shadows

It’s one love, no matter it’s form or shape.