When all growth is barren, when I am bereft,
when every ember in bleak December is gone and the harsh cold envelopes me, standing, waiting patiently, there my lady will be.

Thou art dear to me from the beginning of this love,
and thou will be to the very end. A once broken heart
you did mend. And yet I am aware, through God, and by God, my love is rare.

I, while bemoaning in my fickle state, was disheartened
that love would come, for it seemed to late.
And just as torrent winds sumbit to the flight of the heavenly dove, my once broken heart was rejuvenated by your love.

I will try to be a figure of fortitude when adversity knocks, I know our love will be grandiose, conquering all of life's intrusive rocks.
When the woes of the world become to much for me to bare,
I am comforted in knowing that you will always be there.

A wonderful web of love we have wove,
which is quantified by the conception that you will be my dearly betrothed.
If tribulation is present together we shall stand,
arm in arm and hand in hand.

Love is born from unity, and love gives birth.
Love creates a beloved entity which brings greats mirth.
Real love is a candle in the rain that will never go mild.
O sweet love of mine, it is my fervent wish that one day we have a child.










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