Perhaps, after all . . .

Perhaps, after all,
romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare,
like a gay knight riding down;
perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways;
perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose,
until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart it's pages betrayed the rhythm and the music;
perhaps... perhaps... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship,
as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.
Anne of Avonlea..(L.M.Montgomery).

Perhaps love comes when most unexpected.

Perhaps. Perhaps, after all ...