Words normally flow like water
past parted lips with a steady voice-
But forever I lacked conviction,
no pastor at a pulpit.

But now,
But now,
But now,

I love you is my only poem-
it falls like an echo of your eloquence.
But with faith,
now a believer at the altar.

But now,
But now,
But now,

Where has my eloquence gone?
Where have steady hands fled?
Hands shake, waiting to thread with yours.
Words fail, lips waiting to be silenced by your tongue.

But now,
I wait
with faith and bated breath.