LovE

It is believed love is a most strange thing,
It knows no pace no still,
It travels fast at times, at times it just fills
Abysses of time and hearts out on the kill.
It is believed to grow fast,
But when on shallow slope it flows,
It believes a heart waits to wrap it in,
To within itself envelope.
And then one day it will reach,
The destination it always planned to,
One day it will guide a mind gone astray,
Into the arms of a fresh new day.
And it shall never be too late,
For time is an even stranger thing when u wait,
Destiny a matter of which way you sway,
And hence, my Love, its never too late.