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There is time, for me to say
That I love you, more, every day.
The wondering, not knowing what to do,
Pulls me closer, than ever, watching you.
I still marvel, at what I see
And admire, in you, that fine quality.
I ponder, the working of your mind
And how you manage, to stay so kind.
You are the beauty, that I adore
And want you to stay, forever more.
Please do not leave me, alone again.
I have not your strength, to hide the pain.

Struggling, at times, with patience to maintain,
As the result, of a discussion, so mundane
And trivial to me, you must remain,
A willing listener, of a logical wane.

Long ago and far away,
I heard someone say,
That as we age, in this life,
There will be heartache and strife
But be aware, there will be happiness galore
That will overpower your senses,
As you feel the joy and love, beyond fences,
That try to contain, your own emotion
And that you use to strengthen devotion.
Love you not, a stranger then
But do love, as you make a friend.

If love comes, a calling,
Please open up your door,
For love's, simple passing,
May never return, for more.

Dear God, help me.
For the sadness,
I see in thee.
The cry inside,
That will not die,
Nor go away, today,
Tears at my soul
That is fragile
And would be, too
At the pain I feel,
When I am seeing you.

Ask me not, what I'm thinking
Or if I have resumed drinking,
As the answer, may not be true,
I only write, these words, for you.

Silence, the deathly silence,
Has erected a cone, so dense,
That my urge, to scream and shout,
Breaks through, the few filters, I have left.

I am so stubborn, I've said before.
What can keep me, from the open door
Of love's sweet freedom and that paradise,
In living our life, as we did before.

Is it the deep, sound of silence
That I have now, began to abhor?
Knowing well, that the dawn of tomorrow,
Will be softly, tapping, at my door,
While I stay, praying, in my silence,
Please, my Lord, please, say no more.

There are piles of words, here,
Laying on the floor.
So many words, to choose from
Without opening up the door.
So why then, do I scramble
To find a single word, to adore,
Instead of my babbling, ramble
Of those things, that are no more?