|
May
this Christmas be the
first of many,
Each more
joyous in our growing
love,
Revealing
more of happiness than
any
Riches might
provide or pain remove.
Years flow
like an unrepentant
river,
Carrying the
soil of life away,
Holding far
more than they can
deliver,
Rushing past
the certitudes that
stay.
In love there
is an instance of
forever
So shy and
lovely it eludes the
eye,
The sense of
being home when we're
together,
More enduring
than a reason why.
As love is
born of passion, borne
by will,
So may for
many years we choose
love still. |
