Turn, turn, turn, turn the page once more to begin,
As is life in a book, there must be a loss to have a win,
Each hour has a start but to start another hour must end,
Once a week is lost in part it is impossible a week to mend,
With each new page I pray for another day to be with you,
As the page turns my angel of morning delight comes in view,
I’ve written pages of love on paper, paper hearts without a beat,
Until blood pulses through the heart words will remain incomplete,
A moonlight kiss written well can engorge parts with the mind,
But until lips touch upon the sought he remains to be blind,
No sensation of imagination can lift the human soul that it may fly,
It’s so strange yet words written correctly can make a man cry,
Let her kiss light upon your lips and your heart will set sail,
To a dimension unknown, for if imagined it compares pale,
A book written of love’s first year must be an enormous one,
True love written should be ten times the volume when done,
The moment your mind drifts to her and emptiness is found,
It’s the signature of love when her absence is felt all around,
You must take each moment to heart and cherish it in full,
If blessed to love true let the world know of her love’s pull,
Great men face fear yet cannot bear her departure in thought,
Such men wear ribbons of valor for wars and battles fought,
Time, a little more time, will weigh upon lovers aging too soon,
Mornings bring delight, as first sight of her makes me swoon,
One year of love must contain pages numbering three sixty five,
Each day must be filled with love if new love is to be kept alive,
Filled with extremes of unbridled love it exponentially grows,
Written as pages of your love it will multiply as true love flows,
I’ve written a book of love for you my angel and it’s a big book,
The birth of our love was large but the year of departure overtook,
My heart so exposed for you, the world, and the things I survived,
Our love is created of heart and soul, true love cannot be contrived,
An apparition created of love came to me when despair overtook,
One day of loving you so, while at death’s door created a big book,
Twenty seven pages it took to describe an angel’s kiss on my lip,
Swollen and torn as blood seeped from my skin from head to toe tip,
One book to use as a tall stool with book one used as a step stool,
A stool of three feet disguised as a book of love is a clever tool,
Each year has grown my sweet love to such extreme my books not done,
I’ve come to realize our mansion upon the hill is our home of just one,
We have become one and shall remain as one until our time is done,
Written of me in truth of you is that you’ve always been number one,
Should a teardrop fall upon my written word I pray it is of your eye,
As I share your emotion while you read my rhymes I too will cry,
From within my book of love voices will cry out “hold me a little longer,”
Words of departure and anguish we’ve known well but made us stronger,
“Hold my hand,” you heard me say too often when I was in pain so afraid,
As pain took its toll to such extreme I died and listened as you prayed,
No book can contain the emotion of such a moment when touched of you,
To be granted such a gift, that while in limbo I felt your love as I went through,
Each day I hope and pray to remember sensations of being loved by you,
I write rhymes in hope you will feel my love, that you will feel me too,
Seasons pass through the year and although names remain that’s all,
Leaves on trees are letters on the page and the story is the order they fall,
Each thought and each moment of the day is told as a memory past,
How the story is told creates the shadow of the tree and how it’s cast,
My heart tells me our love story will hold readers spellbound for more,
I pray they understand I knew you before I met you, it was long before,
I dreamed of angels from storybooks of love and I read of lovers of old,
As our story is read I hope to hear, “that’s the best love story ever told.”
The end, I love you my beautiful angel.
For Patti By Pat