If asked why I love her I would say
It’s the sway in her hips,
the thickness in her thighs.
It’s the lust in her lips,
the love in her eyes.
It’s the softness of her skin,
the silk in her hair.
It’s the twist in her walk;
it’s the sweetness in her talk.
It’s the way she loves me
that makes me love her each day.
That is what I would say.

Love, like a river, will cut a new path
whenever it meets an obstacle.
Love is like a mustard seed;
planted by God
and watered by men.
Love is strong yet delicate.
It can be broken.
To truly love is to understand this.
To be in love is to respect this.

The snow, so peaceful and serene,
caressed by the soft moonlight,
gave magical feelings to the night.

The soft blue glow,
the lovers’ words that then did flow,
their lips closer and closer
until, locked in the throes
of a passionate embrace,
he decided to express his feelings,
to keep her safe.

He whispered softly,
his words like music to her ears,
“I Love You,”
and her response the same,
heard like the gentle breeze,
“And I, love you, forever.”

That was the night they promised
to be together through everything,
each to care for the other when old and gray.
A lovers’ pact
the most likely to last.