Nothing is more true: a terza rima

How much more could I love you than I do?
It surely may seem possible, and yet
in those dear days left to me (all too few)

to think that I could possibly forget
or cast aside the one light of my days,
discard the truest friend I’ve ever met,

or fail somehow to sing your constant praise;
it’s far more likely I will sprout some wings.
I’ve grown accustomed to your loving ways,

and come to cherish all the little things.
There is no better match for me than you;
and each day with you some new pleasure brings.

How can you have doubt? Nothing is more true.

15 APR 2014

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