Love, the moonlit-night

Square

For my grandma love was rather simple. Her expectations were few in numbers if she really had any.

I do not remember a single incidence where my grandpa brought her flowers, sweets or anything of value. If they did ever express their love for each other they did so in secrecy. I never saw them holding hands or even sitting close to each other. Yet you couldn’t deny that a thick cloud of love surrounded them.

It wasn’t “love, the madness”, it was “love, the moonlit-night.”