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If all the words I have written
so far haven’t told you this,
here, I want to tell you again:
One teardrop of yours
is a monsoon for me: it floods my heart,
washes away everything else,
and leaves me homeless,
lost, found, and lost again.

When you sound sad
my heart sinks,
when I hear your soft sobs,
my heart is torn up,
when I hear your sighs,
my breath stops, and
you know why…we are one:
strung together by His spirit,
designed for His pattern.

But,
one shard of your smile,
thin peals of your laughter,
make a whole spring in me.
it blooms colors, inspires
fragrance that wafts around.

Yes, I have the confirmation.
For our thoughts are not His,
nor our ways His.
My Valentine, you are not forgotten,
but I’m so wrapped up in you,
often I forget to wake up.

But, you and I…
the story is long, and
the storyteller loves us so dear
He often hugs us together.
Can’t you hear His soft whispers of promise,
of love unique and sublime?
Can’t you feel my hands around you,
nuzzling your neck,
the gentle rub of your cheeks?
Can’t you feel our love,
today, everyday?