Love

It is not hasty, murmured bashfully in the wings
It is not fleeting, a memory within seconds
It is not fickle, meaning less and less each day
No, it has gravity, and I am earthed by it
It is the slow burn of sunrise, and I am warmed by it
It is steadfast, not fly-by-night, and I am sustained by it
It is never regretted, it is always treasured
And I am not giving up on it