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My Love,

O’ how I love her,

 How I love her more with each passing day;

 She who stole my heart it is for her to always save,

 Until time washes over us and we are but aged and gray--

 With each day lived thereon like the last for us to laugh and to cry,

 To love like we did when youth still filled our eyes--

 But that is when I will hold you tight, like I did on those summer nights

 Long ago;

 Or feel loves warm hand the way I felt it first, there--in the falling snow--

So long ago,

Would it of been to us then,

 But I will kiss you like it was our very first: I will make you shy again,

Rub my nose on yours, make you smile again...

For our love knows no censure;

Niether is it beguiled by Time,

Yet remains chaste of his pressure--untouched by his evolving nature--

Always to be to be softly reassured in this truthful rhyme.