The love I celebrate is ‘everyday’;
Quite commonplace, no raptured shades of grey
It’s common people in their common place;
With young and old and every type of face
It’s not political, and not aggrieved –
It’s given freely; gladly it’s received
It’s love that while most high, is thought most low;
The type of love that isn’t there
For show
The most beautiful kind of love. The kind that is so easily taken for granted, yet most missed when it’s not there.
You are such a sweetie head.
Thank you. I don’t believe have never been called that.
I’m sorry. Caught up in the moment. That piece is so…sweet. Made me think you’re a sweetie head. Which does sound weird. I apologize for calling you that.
You’re fine, I considered it a real compliment.
🙂 that’s how it was meant.
The kind that outlasts the winds of change or fad
Exactly.