Dale Lloyd

I watch young lovers in the park,
dancing in the summer sun.
I watch them in the winter too,
laughing as through the snow they run.

Love lingers on in fall and spring—
it’s beauty such a lovely thing.
And in a world that weighs me down,
I love the hope they bring.

And when my soul feels haunted,
I hear the song they sing.
In the smile that lights their face,
I catch a whisper—blessed grace.
The future dances in their eyes;
unlike mine, they’ve not grown dim.
Perhaps, young love still carries
an unclouded view of Him.

My disillusioned soul is stirred,
for in their youth and innocence
another voice is heard.
It calls me back—
not to their youth,
but to something I once knew.

Reminding me that young love will always be
a silent witness from above,
quietly declaring:

Love is God.
And God is love.