Love Directed Poem, by gray0328, at My poetic side

Love turned inward folds in on itself,

a paper crane with clipped wings,

delicate but motionless, unready to soar.

You can cradle it, hold tight—

but it won’t whisper back to you.

Love pointed outward, though,

is a dandelion scattering in the wind.

It lingers on fingertips,

lion-hearted in its quiet bravery,

and lands where it is needed most—

in cracked sidewalks, in trembling hands,

on the shoulders of strangers,

or in the wide arms of someone waiting.

Love without escape grows restless,

a river dammed just before its fall.

But released, it reshapes the land,

carves out valleys of kindness,

etches compassion onto stone hearts,

turns barren spaces into bloom.

How like a gift love becomes,

when it leaves your hands and finds another.

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