For fifteen years, I've loved you as "my own";
Denying all that time that you weren't "mine".
If you're not "mine", then what? Are you "on loan"?
No, no, you are a leaf upon my vine.
Mere foliage? No, My Dear, you are so more
Ah..Ah, still green—(Oh how I miss my babe...)
Yet self-sustainment, oozing from each pore,
Serrated wit to match e'en Honest Abe!
My God, My Sprout, how deep your roots have stretched,
So thin, and with such possibility!
Can Life Success and Depth be so far-fetched?
Not with your Scope and Life Agility.
This Day of Love I wish to say to you,
Your Vine is proud, through tears of Love, of You.