I was once taught
That true love
Should always be loud.
The exploding of fireworks,
Screams of passion,
The frantic drumming
Of an overwhelmed heart.
But you have taught me
That, like the weather,
Loves volume fluctuates.
One moment
A thunderstorm,
The next,
A calm, blue sky.
So though the loud
Contains its own beauty,
If asked to choose,
It would not be
The grand declaration
Of adoration undying,
But the quiet moment
When I feel your soul
Speaking softly to mine.
Reminding me
That what truly endures
Is rarely the fervor,
But the wave of peace
That washes over me
When you smile.