I

What is it that makes them care?
When the world makes them scared.

What is it that makes them friends?
When they are at their end.

What is it that makes them vulnerable?
When everything seems so miserable.

It wasn't taught to receive, but to give,
That's how they learn to live.

As they mature and grow,
Their love within will show.

That My Friend Is Love.

II

Love is a flower so delicate that a touch will bruise it,
But so strong that nothing will stop its growth.

Think how often they miss love in a lifetime by the wrong gesture.
By an unspoken word, by the interference of other people,
By a quarrel, by not keeping silent at the right time.

Love is being a friend when you just want to turn and run,
Love is being patient when you want to throw your hands up in anger.
Love is being strong and strudy, when they want to be weak and sad.

Most of all Love is a Gift,
A Gift of life they share as a World's Unity.

Scott,
I couldn't agree more! Another beautiful poem!
Your friend,
David Fox

Dear **Scott**: Quite equipped with a title,
your verses seemed cogent and vital.
As love is a force
that causes remorse,
it also begets rich requital.

Great poem... Gilly

Very good advise to adhere to Scott. Nicely written . . ..

BC

A good poem, Scott!

I like your descriptions of the ephemeral qualities of love.

Best,
Carol