The pain-dissolving peacefulness
Reflected in his spoken word,
Ensures his voice could cure me still
If only for a moment heard.

The second is his gentle touch,
Consuming all my thoughts,
That has me plucking daisy petals
Skipping all “he loves me not”s.

The third is naught but gleeful,
For I love the way he laughs.
Each day I’d make a fool of me
To hear his joy in half.

He smiles, oh heart, be still, he smiles
And so the heavens dim,
To allow the glorious glowing
And the radiance of him.

His handsome soul is ageless,
Though the moon, alas, revolves.
I pray that I grow old to see
However it evolves.

Relentless in his courage,
I will never fear to be
‘Tween the arms of such
A strong and firm protector as is he.

Unceasing is the passion
And ne’er ending is the heat
In the conversations had between
The lips that itch to meet.

Giving, giving, giving
Never asking in return.
No contest for how warm his fire
So generously burns.

And oh, how calm, how safe it is
To feel his arms entwine

Over each and every pathway
In the crevices of mine.

At last, the most admirable,

The truest since the start,
For what I love the most is this:
He loves with all his heart.

- p. winter