Love is not in exotic flowers that

you expect once a year;

or the price tag on the exorbitant gift

that ohh… you hold so dear.

It’s a heady mix of magical moments….

When you were in the prime of youth,

               madly in love with your prince;

felt reluctant and confused to admit,

               and acknowledge the turmoil within.

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder,

               looked back in pleasant wonder;

to find your parent with a look that said,

               Love is not a blunder.

That’s a hue of love….

The hand you grasped years ago,

               amidst a roller coaster of hope and fear;    

in the moments most sacred witness to your bond of love;

The magic had begun….

When your child was in pain,

               and you spent a sleepless night cajoling him;

the young boy who slept like a log,

               gently scoops him up and from the corner if his eyes,

gestures you to go back to sleep.

That’s a hue of love….

Your child has a tryst with fate,

               viewing a loved one depart;

but one look at you and your pain,

               and he lovingly offers to play his part.

His tiny hands wipe the tears,

               streaming down your face;

your pain magically reduces,

               and you are surprised by his grace.

That’s another hue of love….

  Love is all accommodative,

               expansive and enduring;

Welcome it with open arms,

               enjoy its process of maturing.

It comes in a blast of colours,

               not just shades of red;

Its magic lies in moments, not years,

               it shows you the road ahead.

The road may not be smooth always,

               It has a fair share of highs and lows;

But each moment is meant to readjust your view,

               towards the loved ones you chose.