oh, how the times flew by
in an instant, the ink came dry.
you were once a child
picking the right words carefully, fearfully
but now they are the ghost of what once was,
fading, distant—blurry and forgotten

you used to write of love
the kind you had never known
painting in borrowed words
daydreaming the pages you wished to live

uncertainty was your oldest enemy,
standing firm and tall, a shadow of a giant
david, as you were, searching the stones
the courage to take the leap

funny how time can be cruel, yet also kind
what once you only wrote
is now something you hold
real and steady, love that breathes inside you
no longer just a verse, waiting to appear

and though the ink has dried,
love has bloomed