When I meet him again,
when I rush into his arms,
I'll whisper in,
his ear.

Not that I love him,
although it may be true,
it wouldn't carry,
weight.

Not that I missed him,
I did, everyday,
but he already
knows.

Not that I will always be there,
by his side, I will stay,
but that is granted
given.

I will say to his soul,
"I know you."
He might turn, and ask
is that really
true?

Not a doubt,
I know him, better,
than he knows
himself.

Surer than,
the
day
is long.