Love is the morning hides in moments we almost miss, in the birds, the sky, that give the blessing of a simple day, the chill of winter’s mist. Love is a cycle, each day a new chance to feel it. Nothing ends; it simply turns again. Love is a circle. Love begins quietly, in a gentle rhyme, through seasons, cold or warm, through time. The magic of beginnings, meaningful and true, lives in quiet moments I knew were you. Love is a cycle, each day a new chance to feel it. Nothing ends; it simply turns again. Love is a circle. Love is the morning hides in moments almost missed, in the birds, the sky that gives the blessing of a simple day, the chill of winter’s mist. Love is the morning Love turns again Sunrise unto sundown Andy-B 22. 01 2026
