I'm always on the verge
Of saying,
Or doing,
Something stupid around you.
You are ever graceful
In quickly forgiving me
When my footing is hazardous.
I fear losing our cadence,
Not the distance
That may separate
Between our steps.
Sorry
If I write too much for you -
It's my instinct,
And the words flow easier
On a keyboard
Than from my clumsy mouth.
I would die for you;
Lose for you;
Run for you;
And hold fast for you.
I never feel
That you are too loud
Or too much,
I only worry when you are so much good
That others may intrude on our gladness.
For me,
Our bonds are not secrets,
Nor are they weights,
But I find them most comforting
When I do not have to share.
Unfortunately,
I am still selfish and beligerant,
And often do not notice or understand
What is needed of me.
Thank you for steady patience in this.
Thank you for being
A spring rain
On a winter-bound soul:
I am more alive
For meeting you.
I am more
For meeting you.
