A Labour Of Love

An observation I made
From my parents love for coffee.

Although, I share not the same
Passion for this caffeinated beverage,
I take away something far more valuable.

Words need not be said, yet,
This act of love remains visible.

The consumption of coffee
Turns to a labour of love,
One in which,
Time is spent together,

Making one wonder,
Whether, it is the coffee?
Or is it the desire to be,

Is it the act?
Is it the thought?
Or is it both?

Regardless of the answer.
Whatever it may be,

When one truly cares for another,
Each act is carried with them in mind,

Speaking becomes irrelevant and
The physical presence becomes enough.

We do for the other,
Not because we have to,
But because we want to.

Our expression of love need not be shared with the world,
Solely with the one.