Some say that love is a
Box full of something that will never be long
Some say that love is
A dozen roses that
Will only wilt away
Some say that love is
Pricy or gold but if that was love
Anyone with money would be loved so dearly
And those with open hearts and empty pockets
Would never know what love is
Love for me is not an object of value
Or a florist with all the known flowers
In the human race
but an act or word of kindness
That comes from the heart