Love

The left
the right.
The forward
the backward.
The two
the three.
Doesn't matter how many.

A line cast out,
no intention or hope about.

But an accidental snag
latches itself hard,
carrying with it a tag,
reading,
"Handle with care, or throw back
if you dare"

"Dare I do not!
For love is rare!"
(Or so I thought)

Turns out it is not
but not precious,
it is also not.

So I'll look at this little catch
of mine,
alongside the other
nine,

and hold it close to me, gentle.
Allow the love to flow
and ripple.

But tell, share, I do not.
It's too precious to lose all
I've got.