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
