Love is too wonderful and difficult a thing not to wait for.
Don't hurry. Don't spend your time worrying and waiting for her. She comes to you when you're not looking - an unexpected old friend.
She'll sit down and talk with you like you've been waiting forever. But of course you've been doing anything but. You've been laughing. You've been wondering. You've been looking for the thing you can't find.
Sometimes she is right there. Sometime she is the one next to you. Sometimes she has known long before you did that the details were merely a formality and that you are a thick headed dolt and that a rather large sign wouldn't do the trick. That dynamite, or an anvil, or smoke signals, or fireworks wouldn't get your attention. And that is why love it so great. Why she is proper. Wisdom calls out to us from the heights of the city but love whispers... in the quiet.
I have found her to be a calm and confounding thing. Gentle and easy. Deep and wide. Worthwhile. Infuriating. Treacherous. Incredible.
Why do we settle for the lesser things? For the short, puny, things.
I don't know.
I suppose we are our worst enemies in love. That we are the traitors sometimes. We short circuit and lie and give ourselves to the imitations. But imitations don't like our dirty socks, blemishes, yelling, or flat tires in the rain. Love loves them. She smiles and nods and does the thing. She is gentle and kind and waiting for you to notice. She is warm in the cool night.
She is the slow, quiet, unhurried, passionate, kind... waiting
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