Dear child I cannot surely say
Why "love" often ends this way

But this I must confess,
As to the reason I have a guess:

The love of which we often hear
Is delicate and quite common
A fleeting dangerous game
Reminding me of moth and flame

But Love enduring, pure and true
Is rare and rugged and overlooked
It is sometimes in family & friends
Or ever so rarely; one heaven sends

~Author T

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