Love was walking down the street.

No, not the metaphorical type which you feel deep inside your heart and your soul.

Love was really, really, walking down the street.

When I first saw Love walking down the street, I didn’t know it was Love.

But I smiled.

I don’t know why. But I smiled.

So I asked my friend, “Who is that walking down the street”?

My friend answered, “Love”.

I followed Love.

As I followed Love down the street, unknown to him, I noticed a lot of people smiling, as I had.

I was confused.

Why were people smiling at Love?

I continued to follow.

Love just walked. Steadily. Love didn’t rush. Love was just Love.

As I followed Love, I forgot where I was.

I just wanted to follow Love.

I loved what Love was doing but I didn’t know why.

I followed with content.

I followed and followed.


Love stopped and turned slowly towards me.

I stopped. I was scared.

Love came forward.

I tentatively stepped forward.

I was face to face with Love.

I was trembling. I didn’t know what do to.

Love looked at me.

I cried.

I stepped slightly forward.

I hugged Love. Love didn’t hug me. Love didn’t need to.

I hugged Love.

I wept and wept and wept and my weeping turned to laughter.

I didn’t know why and I didn’t know how.

I continued down the street.