Can he get angry
Without being convicted
Can she cry
Without being rejected

When she's hurting
Does he feel the pain
Is she fanning
The lover's flame

Is she suspicious
When he's late at work
Does he still embrace her
When she's at her worst

At the end of the day
Is he still the one
Whose fiery passion
Could melt the sun

When the day is dark
Is she still the one
Whose brilliant smile
Could pale the sun*

True love's the hope
We most all cling to
But to find it
We* must first be true

For we won't find it in strength
Inspiring awe
We find it in weakness
In the ugliest flaws

She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of ******-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.

Not a poem, but I am reminded how thankful I am to be literate when I come here and read the beautiful words from this wildly talented community able to make my heart soar on even the darkest of days.