My Love

I marvel at her daily and tremble all the while
as I glimpse the simple beauty behind that gentle smile.
The heart behind her patience, the love that she does hold
is, I know, more precious than mountains full of gold.
I often sit and wonder why her love she did bestow
on this strange old man who basks in her radiant glow.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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