What Love Isn't

Love is not closed
When the arms fold in and the shoulders enclose the heart like wings protecting a wet bird against a bitter wind,
Love will fly itself above the clouds where it hovers like a hummingbird near the sun,
parting the clouds for you if only you will just look up and offer your heart to its warmth
Love isn't here
or there...
It isn't sitting in a cage waiting to be tossed a bone
It doesn't pace the floor waiting for you to come home
It does not rage or scream its disappointment
It weeps softly looking up at you from its place near the sofa
where you left it right next to your suitcase full of fear.
It does not care whether you missed a spot or colored outside the lines
It only notices the colors
Love pours itself into every empty space
even the ones you thought you hid so well
It does not worry that you're leaving and may never return
And it does not disappear without a trace
It goes with you and dances all around you
lapping at your feet and running on ahead a bit so you'll know the way
It stays right beside you even when you're too busy to notice