I so badly wanted to write
The perfect love-song.
But the words escaped me.

I thought the words all had to rhyme,
The chords had to make perfect harmony.
But I had not heard yet, the song of love.

I had heard the so-soft words.
Whispered in twilight just before dreams.
But had not found their meanings.

I did not know the stop,
To lay softly and be weak.
But instead stood tall, strong, and ready.

When my body could love no more,
I was sure I had achieved wisdom.
But I was just being made silent.

I learned love in the quiet whisper,
In the soft twilight memory of being held.
But thought then it was too late.

And in my tearful lamentations,
Spoken quietly in the wind.
She heard...her hand still in mine.