we are together

outside, baby, the storm rages,
dropping all that white all over,
while I flip through care-worn pages,
and realize that You are like no other;
I may need You to save me,
from all that accumulating nieve;

blessing me, every day, with Your love,
such a silly fool that I remain, still,
no showers of frozen water from above,
will ever let me complain,
while I enjoy all the charms that
You employ, as You take us down
that primrose path, past all the bad,
past all the past, past the wrath
visited so unfairly on You, and
by extension, on me;

now, just the capture of what we wrought,
a souvenir of all that we bought,
lock, stock, and barrel:
You and I, cemented in the middle,
maybe a new life to seek,
maybe not so very meek as to say,
today is the first day
of forever, whatever, and ever
shall be: me for You,
and You for me;

as I have You, here, the distance
makes my love for You everclear:
part, momentarily, my dear,
as we always must,
but for always, we are together.



December 20, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.