How can I make this time of telling special
When I tell you that I love you every day?
How can I tell you that you are my angel
When you know you are my angel anyway?
I love you more on this, your day of birth,
Than on the day we married, long ago.
Like a tree each year in height and girth,
My love has grown immense, though still and slow.
But each time our eyes join instead of meet,
It’s as though the lights of stars and sun
Join in me, a burst so bright and sweet,
It couldn’t be contained by anyone.
And so as poetry it flows to you
That I may words with all my love imbue.

About the Author:
Nicholas Gordon


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