Love Actually

Poetry Christina Zecca

Love is all around, But too remains unseen. It is purest white and deepest red And all shades in between.

It is a picnic on a hillside wood Colored by the afternoon sun, She smiles, bathed in golden orange, And his heart has been won.

It is a nurse’s tender touch Upon a sunken cheek, Comforting a tired soul Without the need for speech.

Or rather, a child’s carefree romp Along an umbrella-studded shore, And a mother’s hope to maintain His innocence, for one summer more.

Perhaps it is a neon street, Humming with idle sounds, A helping hand reaches out To the stranger on the ground.

For some, it is crisp pages, unsullied By oiled fingers and dogged ears, Filled with star-crossed stories of Love conquering all fears.

Or a weathered bottle Lapped at by the sea, From their glass prison, The author’s words set free.

A wrinkle-riddled countenance, Etched by decades of laughter, Beholds the one he lost, while Dreaming of life together after.

So in a world blighted by hate Let your heart abound, for Love actually is All around.