Love is a saga, a story so old,
It’s been rewritten many times, been bought and resold.
Every version is different, or at least that’s how it seems.
Different heroes and villains, alternate endings and dreams.
The print changes in color, font and size as it flows from one to the next.
Each rendition pulls us in, guides us through the text.
All stories start the same, printed on paper with ink so bold,
Their covers are captivating and meant to be sold.
They’re placed in the front of the shelf for all to see.
Make us want what is inside, make it available for you and me.
But time wears on and the books do too.
Pushed further to the back, although their stories are still true.
Their ink starts to fade, now charcoal gray instead of black.
Covers are dented or ripped as they’re opened and put back.
What we sometimes forget is that as some things grow old
Their value increases, they are copper turned gold.
Although they are worn, pages damaged and bent,
They are worth more now than ever, worth every cent.
For these stories, this love, have stood the test of time.
As have you, for finishing this rhyme.
Thanks for reading!