Love is like a warm house
aglow with a welcoming light.
Drafts may penetrate on occasion,
but are soon vanquished,
by the hearths pulsing embers.
All who enter this space,
feel it’s comfort.Rain may batter at its’ roof, tempests shake

its’ foundations,all will be stilled.
There are no brighter beacons
in the dark lonely night,
than the light, in the house,
on the street where love lives.
A warm house starts with one
and with additions, becomes one.There can be no peace without love.