Joined Hands

We rarely pick our story's start, less often how it ends.
When following the asphalt lines, we flow through straights and bends.

Folks pass on by our hearts and minds like wind-swept shifting sands,

but love is born in moments dear, when two stop and join hands.

To some love is a melody they swear they know from birth

to others it's a flower grown, coaxed softly from the earth.

It's lightning in the darkest skies and laughing, tearful eyes.

Love is something powerful, it shines still when it hides.

For the hearth of lovers' union grants warmth from blizzard's snow,

smoothing out untrodden paths, no matter where they go.

Embraced in times of comfort, whether solemn-borne or glee,

in the heartbeats of a moment, there'll be everything to be.

The darkest of life's shadowed mirk may pale in lovers light.

Love may stoke the fires of pain and yet still settle every fight.

Love's the tight rope balance thrill but the safety net below.

It's a feeling often read and said, but you know just when you know.

Every mountain meets a valley but each valley another side.

Love is full of passion stoked by fear and hope and pride.

Burdens may befall us all, so heavy we can't stand,

but your love was born from moments dear, when you stopped and joined hands.

For in every challenge you may face, your love can still withstand.