I have filled the empty pages,
In the chapters of "My Life,"
With so much needless worry,
And so much needless strife.
Not trusting the true author,
My maker and my friend,
To whisper all the words to me,
From beginning to "The End."

Instead I chose every syllable,
All the characters, and the plot.
Til my pen went dry and I heard,
"There's something you forgot!"
"You failed to mention I was there,
Every second, yet you didn't know,
And this story "you've" been writing?
I actually wrote it long ago."

Oh! With what diligent effort,
Did you once seek a love?
And found it almost perfect,
What you had the offer of?
And then with careless disregard,
Inspection and with creed,
Give up that almost perfect love,
That you felt you did not need?
Then while it vaguely wandered,
Did you call out a time or two?
Wishing that now perfect love,
Would come right back to you?
Love, it seeks a welcome home,
It doesn't beat a darkened door,
And it will choose a foreigner,
Over one it's loved before.
But it teaches a certain lesson,
While the season's timely close,
That almost perfect love becomes,
More perfect as it goes..............