I Think I Know What Love Is

I wish for you the
sweetest gesture of
love, a dusty rose on your
pillow.
I am so taken by your
kind humble ways

I swoon to think you will
love me again
the next time I mention
you, sweetheart.
Yours is a long-standing sense of

love, and does not wash out
like the
tide at night.
You talk to me in a way
that searches

my soul for the true, real
answers to
what makes us both so exhilaratingly
happy.

We will always be
together,
finding each other, at
every step,
at every whisper, at every
tender embrace.

The motion of our mutual
respect continues
on into eternity.
I see in you how the
world begins and ends.

It is as if I might jump
from a high
mountain top, gliding,
swirling, swiftly
into your arms as you catch me with a

sure-fitted hold, clasping me,
your arms
around me, my racing
heart bent on keeping
its beat only for you,

the rich power of your
large hands
squeezing me. I find the
greatest wish
come true--my undying
love to you

complete in its perfection
with a
matchless, unforgettable
lingering kiss--
when I ask for it.

And then, as I wait for you
longer than
time itself,
hide me tomorrow in the
windy heights of

our compassionate
dance,
as we dip to defy any
ending of our love.