Why do you do, the things you do?

They ask, once, and again.

And this is what I say —

Words mean little without their motion,

A motion of respectful listening.

To have and hold, only when told,

And to treat as one is valued.

Words are blind without their light;

The light of trust that builds itself,

Where secrets lose their strength,

And pain is endured for the sake of others.

Words are cold without their heat,

The warmth in hug and heart,

To save and cool in final breathes,

All because "I love you”.