Love starts in ones heart.
Taking on the likeness of a tree, there after.
Branching out to limbs and fingers,
Creating new extensions of the mind,
A new sense of being.

You get two chances at Love.
The first time you discover what it is,
If you're lucky, you'll take it in.
But for many this is too late,
And that Love has passed.

No go out and find it,
Now that you know what Love is.
This is your second chance,
Don't let it slip away.
If you take a third try,
That Love can't be true.
This, some like to say.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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