I’m wilting, heavy with burdened soul,
troubled with thoughts untold
the thoughts of my lover who
feels the thoughts, heavy, too.
Am I selfish in loving more?
to not my own love, explore?
To not appreciate the sweetness there?
In laying out my soul too bare.
Love is not with rhyme or reason;
Love extends beyond one season;
my heart is full, but can hold more still;
grateful for one more to fill;
Love returned is better yet;
love that hearts combine and let
grow and create a richer story
that’s the place of sweet glory.