Love, pure love,
opens any door
without needing a key—
just sweet simplicity.
Sometimes the hinges may stick.
Anger and tears swell it shut
(even love gets in a rut).
Some hearts have revolving doors
that seek all hearts—yours, yours, yours!

Love, sweet love,
is no empty room
but one of hopes and dreams,
a host of years, sunbeams.
A living room, memories,
that linger in days of old
to warm us when nights grow cold.
Love with knit us together—
there’s nothing we can’t weather.

Love, just love,
makes worries slicker
so they’ve no where to stay
but simply roll away.
Open the door, love’s delight
is to cradle you all night;
shoulder your sorrows, blight.
To keep fires burning, takes you
but both hearts must remain true .

Love, all love,
opens any door …