Love and Relationship Poems

I'll love you still

The years may take away your youth
As shadows dim your gentle glow,
But it won't change this constant truth:
My love for you remains aglow.
I'll always cherish life with you;
I beam with joy and always will.
I'll write these words in poems, too…
I love you still. I love you still.

I've seen your sorrow late at night
In silent rooms when tears appear.
But when you wake to early light,
My heart is glad to see you cheer.
Although your vibrant bloom may fade
When wrinkles trace your form at will,
I won't forget what time betrayed…
I'll love you still. I'll love you still.

Even though time and aging will eventually diminish a woman's youth, vitality, and exterior beauty, her inner beauty remains. This enduring inner beauty will continue to be the lens through which a loving husband views his wife.

Image by Pikrepo
Poetic form: Octave

© 2026, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

If I Have Gone To Sleep

If I depart in early sleep
And cease to be with you,
My thoughts I'd leave for you to read,
To hold your hands in times of need,
To soothe your grieving too.

I've written words you have not read
That speak of you, my love.
In them, I do express for you
A love as deep as oceans blue
And wide as space above.

We've lived as one for many years
Despite some days of pain.
To be unkind was not our thought;
We worked to show the love we sought
And strove for it to reign.

For forty-one abiding years,
I've prized my time with you.
And I do hope we both will see
The dawn ahead when we'll be free
From death and sadness too.

But if I were to fall asleep
Before what will be new,
Remember this: the hope we hold,
The one that God will soon unfold,
Will bring us back anew.

So cherish all the words I'll leave
If I have gone to sleep,
For they will be my hands on you,
Caresses from the man you knew,
Forever yours to keep.

This is a poem I wrote for my wife on our 41st anniversary. We were young when we were married, and while it hasn't been a smooth ride, our mutual love for Jehovah and for each other helped us meet and overcome the challenges we faced. My love for her has only deepened over the years.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quintain
Kenny Rogers 'Through The Years'
Kenny Rogers 'You Decorated My Life'

© 2023, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Hold This Truth

If death should take my breath, my dear,
Shed just a tear for me.
Your time to mourn will not be long;
A day of joy will come along,
Then freed from pain you'll be.

The grave will hold my fleshless bones;
I will return to dust.
My life will be in death's embrace,
A somber room, a lonely place;
To darkness I'll be thrust.

Recall the things that we went through
While still in early bloom.
When we were young and full of hope,
We met with tests and had to cope
But rose above the gloom.

But now that we are old and gray
And near the end of life,
Reserve within your heart and mind
That death cannot keep life confined;
Be cheered, my lovely wife.

So hold this truth within your heart:
You'll touch my face again.
The Sovereign Lord will soon reveal
That even death to him must kneel,
And I will see you then.

My wife and I were married for 40 years when I wrote this poem. It has been a wonderful journey, one we hope will continue forever.

John 5:28, 29; Acts 24:15; Isaiah 25:8
Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quintain

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Sentimental Song

A pad and pen lie by his side
This moonless night of fall.
And though he tries to hush his pride,
To only see the tears she cried,
His hands refuse to breach the wall,
A pithy line to scrawl.

His mind, in angst, replays the day
And sees the pain she felt.
For he had let a donkey's bray
Escape his lips without delay,
Not thinking of the pain it dealt
When he shot out his pelt.

Now deep regret besets his mind,
For what he did was wrong.
His hands relent and reach to find
The pad and pen they first declined
And penned for her, ten pages long,
A sentimental song.

Disagreements in marriage can occasionally lead to the exchange of unkind words. It takes humility to admit the mistake and then take the appropriate actions to make amends for causing pain. My goal with this poem is to depict the thoughts of a husband who recognizes the pain he has caused his wife and his attempt to express his regret by writing her a love song.

Image by Beccalee via Pixabay
Poetic form: Sexain

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

A New Day

A searing ache within my heart
Had taken hold of me.
I'd been adrift without a chart,
Uncertain, lost, and drawn apart—
A lonely sailor lost at sea
In storms I couldn't see.

A cheerful spring has kissed the day
And blushed the sky at dawn;
Before the birds arise to play,
I cling to my dear love and pray
To have my woes forever gone,
A joyous day to don.

I rise and pray the day is blessed;
Her kiss expels my cares.
I rest my head atop her breast
And thank her for this time of rest,
For all her love and earnest prayers,
And for the pain she bears.

Occasionally, a man will encounter times when everything seems to be against him. How wonderful it is to have a loving and supportive wife who helps him deal with the challenges he faces. With this poem, I aim to convey that thought.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Sexain

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Lovely As You

Oh, a poem as lovely as you,
No poet wrote for eyes to view.
Not Burns or Blake, not even Keats,
Though pens have bled on countless sheets.
And though I've searched both high and low,
No lyric shares your wondrous glow.
I think, perhaps, a lengthy prose
May capture half your glowing rose.
And yet, I know it will not hold
The salient beauty I behold.
But still, I search in case you go,
So words may ease that day of woe.

I wrote this poem for my wife. It centers on the idea that I have not been able to find written words that can truly capture the beauty I see in her and the pain I would feel if she were gone.

Image by Katzenfee50 via Pixabay
Poetic form: Couplet

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Beauty And Grace

Oh, blessed is the wind that caresses your face,
The sun at dawn, when awakened, my dear.
No flower can best your beauty and grace.

And see, high above, the clouds giving chase
To the breath that has kissed the lobe of your ear.
Oh, blessed is the wind that caresses your face.

Your hair, in the breeze, is linen and lace;
Your lips, in the eve, have filled me with cheer.
No flower can best your beauty and grace.

When the sun smiles upon your arms in embrace,
Your eyes, full of life, like embers, appear.
Oh, blessed is the wind that caresses your face.

As you twirl in your dance, your steps I'll retrace;
The day that we wed, I'll forever revere.
No flower can best your beauty and grace.

Oh, come, my beloved, let's go to our place
And ignite our love till sunrise is here.
Oh, blessed is the wind that caresses your face.
No flower can best your beauty and grace.

In this villanelle, I use romantic and descriptive language to express my feelings and the deep love I have for my wife. With each line I echo the warmth of our shared moments as I capture the beauty of her form. Through it, I hope to convey not just my affection for her but also the profound connection and love that binds our hearts together.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Villanelle

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Reminiscing

The vinyl record lies untouched
And wears a coat of dust.
For many years, no hands have clutched
To play the songs of lovers crushed,
Poetic lines that speak of trust
And life that is unjust.

A man sits down to rest his bones;
His day at work was hard.
He shuts his eyes, which seem like stones,
To chase away his aches and groans
But feels a pain he can't discard,
For life has dealt his card.

He fondly starts to reminisce
And sees himself with her.
He longs to feel her tender kiss,
To bask in years of wedded bliss,
To breathe her jasmine mixed with myrrh—
His heart begins to stir.

His teary eyes allow a glance
At where the record lies.
Recalling how they loved to dance
Beneath a moonlit night's expanse
And gaze beyond adoring eyes,
He sighs her name and cries.

He reaches for and plays a song
To hear her words once more.
His mind takes flight and treks along
The paths they took when they were strong—
The mornings walking on the shore,
Where love for her he swore.

He hears the voice that crowns her words—
A healing song of glee.
Like arias of rhythmic birds,
It balms his heart of shattered thirds,
Unshackling pain to set it free,
As if she heard his plea.

Image by Jace & Afsoon via Unsplash
Poetic form: Sexain - Elegy

© 2022, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

A Walk At Night

She's clothed in light when she appears;
Freckles speck her argent skin.
Her dazzling smile is bright tonight,
A lamp to earth's unhurried spin.

I gaze at her ascending form
And smile at her flirtatious ways—
The times she hides behind a cloud
While bathing in her lover's rays.

For spans of time, she's danced the nights
As waking stars relight the skies.
She walks with couples strolling by
And shares the glow her beau supplies.

Around me ring the songs of life,
Cacophonies that please the mind.
Above, I see applauding stars;
They seem like fireflies entwined.

My grateful eyes return to her,
Now fully bright, like beaming brides.
It brings to mind the one I love,
The girl in whom my heart resides.

A full moon creates a beautiful view in a rural setting. I wrote this poem with this imagery in mind, using descriptive words to compare the beauty and radiance of the woman I love, my wife, to that of a full moon in a lovely night sky.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2020, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Inner Beauty

Alas, my flower's bloom begins to fade,
And all that I can do is share her fate.
Her lustrous eyes display a dimmer shade,
Diminishing their light and lively state.
Her supple petal wilts and pales with age,
And gone are all the days that time betrayed.
Although I've loved the turning of each page,
It saddens me to see the tolls she's paid.
But time cannot erase the bond we hold
Or change the inner grace that she displays.
Her charm my aging eyes can still behold,
Which seals my loyal gaze for endless days.
So even if her petal fades with time,
My flower's inner grace remains sublime.

With this poem I reflect on the bittersweet nature of aging and the enduring bond between a husband and his beloved wife.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Sonnet

© 2020, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

To You, My Wife

To you, my wife, my love, I declare.
You are the joy with which I've been blessed,
My morning flower of beauty and flair.

Oh my dearest, you mend me with care
Whenever sadness tramples my rest;
To you, my wife, my love, I declare.

I love the quiet nights that we share,
When laughter lingers after our quest.
My morning flower of beauty and flair.

Each day you rise, so lovely and fair;
My fondness for you I've always expressed.
To you, my wife, my love, I declare.

Together we share this path without care
While holding hands and walking abreast,
My morning flower of beauty and flair.

Unending life with you is my prayer;
Eternity echoes the words I've confessed.
To you, my wife, my love, I declare,
My morning flower of beauty and flair.

The villanelle is well-suited for poetry that takes on a song-like form. I wrote this one as a romantic expression of the love I have for my wife.

Image by Takmeomeo on Pixabay
Poetic form: Villanelle

© 2019, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Eternity

If I could give her just one gift,
What would she want that gift to be?
Would she prefer a diamond ring
Or roses spread across the sea?

Would she prefer a priceless gem,
A string of pearls, or maybe two?
Would she suggest a trip to France
To buy a cottage with a view?

Perhaps she'll like expensive shoes
Or cruising on the open seas.
Or take a flight around the world
And then indulge in shopping sprees?

I'd gladly give these things to her
If I were rich and had the means.
But I'm a simple, humble man
With scanty wealth and tattered jeans.

I did find out from my dear wife
One summer night under a tree
That all she wants is my true love—
To see eternity with me.

My wife and I often playfully tease each other about our wants and needs, which leads to hearty laughter. Ultimately, however, what we truly desire is to remain together, as God intended for a husband and wife, for all eternity. I wrote this poem for her several years ago while reflecting on those cherished moments of playfulness that continue to bring us joy today.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2019, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

If Only

If only I could change the early years
And live again the day we fell in love,
I would erase the times I caused you tears
And light your darkened days like stars above.

If only you could hear my verses sung,
You'd understand the love I have for you.
I rue what I allowed this careless tongue
To say, for it had made your days turn blue.

If only you could read my mournful heart,
You'd feel the anguished pain I always hold.
A pain that lingers still and won't depart
Until the day my blood is running cold.

In my declining years, what I will do
Is love you even more than when we wed.
I'll treasure all the moments I'm with you
As I recite the words my pen has bled.

Image by annca via Pixabay
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2019, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Should Words Fail Me

Should I be lying on our bed
As darkness waits for my last breath,
Upon your face I wish to shed
My final glance, then laugh at death.

Should frailty cause my arms to die
And hugs I can no longer share,
With every breath I softly sigh,
You'll know my love I still declare.

Should darkness veil my aging eyes
And keep your lovely face from me,
I will replay the smile I prize,
Within my mind, where I can see.

Should words then fail to freely flow
From my old lips to say goodbye,
With my last breath, you'll surely know
How deeply you are loved... and why.

I was recovering from a period of depression when I wrote this poem. Reflecting on what I had experienced, I appreciated being in the company of someone who provided comfort and encouragement during those difficult years. — Proverbs 5:18; 27:9

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2019, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Glowing Flame

My love for you is like a flame
That burns atop a candle’s frame.
The colors blaze intensely bright,
And yet their hue is not the same.

The hue of red, like passion, reigns,
But orange gleams like golden manes.
And yellow shines like sunny days,
But still, one hotter hue remains.

It joins the rest as searing blue;
It is the hottest hue in view.
It glows within the steady flame—
Just like the love I have for you.

Red = Passion
Orange = Optimism
Yellow = Happiness
Blue = Loyalty And Trust

Within a marriage, love is expressed in many ways. It can be passionate; it focuses on the positive rather than the negative; it is joyous and cheerful; and most of all, it is loyal and trusting. In this poem, I aimed to illustrate that love is akin to a candle's flame, which displays various colors, each with its intensity. The blue at the flame's inner core represents the hottest part of the flame.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Rubaiyat

© 2019, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Endless Bloom

She worries that her softest bloom is gone,
The beauty that was hers in younger years.
She reminisces days of early dawn,
When flawless skin awoke to gleeful cheers.
She frets her steps have lost their sultry dance,
Her slender figure time has cast away.
She dreads her crown to white will soon advance,
So feels it is in vain to hide her gray.
But I don't see the years her mirror shows,
Instead I view a bloom's maturing glow.
Her smile, her lively eyes and button nose,
Are still like early days of long ago.
The mirror only sees her graying years,
But I the graceful bloom beneath the tears.

As we age, how we see ourselves in those later years may differ from how others perceive us. That can be the case in a loving marriage, where a wife may see her declining physical attractiveness as an indication that she is no longer beautiful. However, from her husband's perspective, he not only sees her outward beauty but also her inner one, and he adores her for that beauty that she displays. That is the theme I wanted to explore with this sonnet—the worries and insecurities that come with aging and a husband's perception of his wife's beauty and grace.

Image by Bessi via Pixabay
Poetic form: Sonnet

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Raindrops Call

A storm descends to mar the day
As he looks out from the café.
It brings to mind forgotten pain—
The time he wept like falling rain.

His mind replays those early years,
Forsaken days of pleading tears.
He was naïve, too young to know
The bitter pain that love can sow.

Her amber skin, kissed by the sun,
Was like the softest fabric spun.
Her walk and smile would brighten days
When sadness hung like walls of haze.

Her eyes, akin to burning coal,
Had set ablaze the heart she stole.
Her pouting lips and silky voice
Would make his ardent heart rejoice.

But when the bloom of youth was gone,
Retreating like an early dawn,
The brighter light would soon expose
Infatuation's gasping throes.

He hears a voice as raindrops fall;
They join as one; for her, they call.
The tears he shed the day she left…
The tears he shed the day she left.

I wrote this couplet poem in response to a prompt about the bloom of youth, a time when one is still unprepared to deal with the heartache of romantic love. In it, I explore the lingering pain of lost love, highlighting the contrast between the joy of youthful love and the sorrow of separation.

Image by ronymichaud via Pixabay
Poetic form: Double Couplet

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Intangible

I rise at dawn with thoughts of you,
A graceful girl whom I once knew.
The crashing waves call out a plea
To trace the steps you left for me.

The surf replays melodic tunes
While it caresses sandy dunes.
The sand enfolds my naked feet,
Awash in waves that then repeat.

The seagulls circle as they fly;
Their mournful calls suffuse the sky.
They cite the days of joy we shared
And words of love we once declared.

But now all that remains of you
Are wispy whispers sighing blue.
Intangible, as you've become,
To airy whispers, I succumb.

This is another non-biographical poem I wrote in response to a prompt at a poetry website. What I attempt to capture within this poem is the sorrow a man feels at losing the girl he had been courting and had wanted to marry, but she ended the relationship and left without saying goodbye.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Double Couplet

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Unforgotten

He sits alone while waves surround his feet
And gulls in flight incite his mind to wake.
The sand gives way to water in retreat,
Awakening the echoes of his ache.

It has been years since he last saw her face,
And yet he still recalls her graceful form.
He can't let go of days in her embrace,
For deep within remains a latent storm.

Her images caress his pleading mind,
But there remains a truth he can't deny.
The answer that he seeks, he fails to find;
In endless whispers, he keeps asking, “Why?”

The sleepy sun begins to close its eye
Just as he feels the storm inside him stir.
With trembling lips, he tries to say goodbye,
But only has the strength for words to slur.

He scrawls her name atop the dampened sand
And sees her striking beauty once again.
A wave stretches out a sodden hand,
Then carries her away—but not the pain.

I wrote this non-biographical poem in response to a prompt at a poetry website. With it, I explore the emotional turmoil experienced by a man whose memories of losing the woman he loves still haunt him even years after her passing.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

My Belle

Tonight, I wonder with a sigh
As she lies here, right by my side,
What would have been as time went by
Had she declined to be my bride.

Would happiness have left me then?
Would I have grieved for what I lost?
Would I have chanced to love again
And hushed the day our paths had crossed?

Each night, the answers lie unknown,
Entwined in dreams that I behold.
I dread the thought of days alone,
Of years without her form to hold.

And yet, it’s silly that I dwell
On thoughts of sadness late at night,
For she has been my lovely belle
Since we first met, so life is right.

The central idea of this poem is my musings on love, commitment, and the fear of loss. I consider the "what-ifs" of life decisions and the relationship I have, and cherish, with my wife.

Photo by ALV - Converted To A Painting
Poetic form: Quatrain

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Till Death Us Part

I recall the years gone by,
Married young and not yet wise.
Counting days since that July—
Thirty years, plus six, our ties.

Happy days and blissful nights
Joined the times of tears and ache.
Through it all, our love reached heights
Stronger than what hate can break.

Here we stand, as time has passed;
Closer still we have become.
Love's the glue that held us fast,
Then and now, with years to come.

Glowing deep within my heart,
Flames of love for you still burn.
Growing old till we depart,
Then to dust we'll both return.

I composed this poem for my wife several years ago. I reflect on our marriage, which has been joyful, though we have also experienced challenging times. In it, I also acknowledge that death may eventually separate us. Even so, as I've indicated in other poems, we cherish the scriptural hope of seeing each other again.

Image by ALV - AI generated
Poetic form: Quatrain - Trochee

© 2018, Angel L. Villanueva. All rights reserved.

Endless Dream

I walk the trail in hopes of reaching you,
As winter sheds her tears of crystal ice.
I rise above the drifts that block my view
But find my steps alone do not suffice.
I crawl across ascending mounds of snow,
For yearnings for your touch have urged me on.
I find the strength to stand when feeling low
And rise before my final breath is drawn.
But I wake up, just like the other nights,
Alone again, for love has been denied.
Then dawn arrives anew with searing lights,
And I can clearly see my dream has lied.
My endless dream denies a final climb,
But patiently I wait for love sublime.

I wrote this poem to show a man's deep longing for his wife as he patiently waits to again experience the intimacy they once shared. I use a figurative journey across a bleak, snowy landscape to highlight his struggle, yearning, and resilience despite the sadness he experiences. But the poem also reveals the inevitable realization that the intimacy he desires remains elusive, hindered by circumstances beyond his wife's control, such as her health issues or emotional barriers that prevent her from desiring the same intimacy.

One Last Candle

The angry storm approaches in the night;
Its curdling howl is heard for miles around.
The trees all flinch in fear of nature's smite,
Then cast their sobbing leaves upon the ground.
No soul dares venture out to face the storm,
For nature's wrath is not so lightly scorned.
The lights go out as winds in anger swarm;
The frightened city now lies unadorned.
Yet here I lie in rest with you, my love,
As candles lift the veil that darkness brings.
Securely sleeping like a peaceful dove,
Your arms around me are your regal wings.
I gaze at you when calm outside returns
And kiss your face as one last candle burns.

Some years ago, we experienced a major blackout in our area due to a strong storm. The storm left us without power for several days, forcing us to rely on candles for needed lighting. I wrote this poem while recalling that time.

Her Vow

She walks beside the River Rhine
As stars appear tonight.
Her teary eyes inspect the sky
To search for one in flight.

She wants the star to carry on
The name she calls at night.
It will forever be his home,
Where suns are born in light.

Cologne and Basel join the stars
To listen with delight,
For from her lips now flows a song
That only angels write.

The song resounds with words of love
That frolic in the air.
She sings of passion late at night
And of his tender care.

Her words of love move heavenward
As tears of pain cascade.
She speaks of him with graciousness
And vows his name won't fade.

This is a poem I composed in response to a prompt at a poetry website.

This Leaf

Oh, this leaf!
I always hold it close to me!
It replicates your supple lips,
The ones that are so dear to me.
Delightful are the times
When you share your lips with me.

Oh, this leaf!
It is a gift to me!
Its shape and crimson hues
Are like the ones I see in you.
I love the tender moments
When you share your lips with me.

Oh, this leaf!
It will always be with me!
When I'm away from you,
It makes me want you there with me.
I am replete with joy
When you share your lips with me.

Lasting Beauty

The early years have departed;
Brief is the course of life.
Yet, time’s passing has not
Dimmed the love in my heart.
Although your outer bloom
Has gradually faded,
Your inner beauty remains.
Loving and affectionate,
Your grace ties my heart
To your own
And will hold me captive
Until death demands
My unpaid debt.

I composed this poem for my wife many years ago, and the thoughts within the lines still hold true. I wanted to capture the type of love that endures and transcends physical changes and the passage of time, contrasting between external appearance and internal qualities—a love that remains strong despite the inevitable aging and fading of outer beauty.

Merging Dreams

She enters while I sleep at night
And wanders through my dreams.
A sense of wonder and delight
Fills her heart when thoughts ignite,
Displaying joyful themes.

Enchanted by the striking sight,
She then continues on.
She searches for a special site
Where fantasies are cloaked in light
And images are drawn.

She sees the dream beneath a beam,
Cocooned in silky white.
She sits to watch the nascent dream—
The one she knows will reign supreme
And rise with her in flight.

She smiles along with widened eyes;
She knows I will be free.
And from this dream, I will arise
To offer her what she will prize—
A reverie of glee.

Before her eyes, I then appear—
A modest butterfly.
I stretch my wings as she comes near;
She tells me I should have no fear,
That we will own the sky.

She spreads her wings and starts to fly
Toward where stars are drawn.
We dance all night while flying high
Beneath the moon's approving eye,
Then share a kiss at dawn.

An image I saw a few years ago inspired this poem. In this romantic verse, a husband and wife share a dream in which they meet at night and fly toward the sky like a pair of courting butterflies beneath the watchful gaze of a full moon.

Which One Is The Rose

I see you, and I pause,
Enamored by your face.
I start reciting poems
Of roses wrapped in lace.

By your side stands the one
Who holds you close to her.
She extols you with her eyes,
And my heart begins to stir.

I adore your stunning glow,
A painting set ablaze;
Superb is your appearance,
As you glory in her praise.

I amble close to you
And pause to relish the view,
As well as offer thanks
To the one who holds you, too.

I turn to look at her,
For light has kissed her face.
Her ebony appearance
Has fixed my eyes in place.

But when she turns and smiles,
My heart is stunned anew,
For I can clearly see
The rose is holding you.

This poem is a revised version of one I previously wrote. The inspiration for it came from an image I had seen, much like the one that accompanies this poem. When rewriting it, I also had my wife in mind.

Walk With Me

Take my hand,
walk with me,
and let me show you
the stages of our love
on this wonderful journey:
eros—for your beauty consumes me;
agape—for it is unconditional;
storge—for deep is our affection;
philia—for intimate is our friendship.
And so,
as we walk hand in hand,
enduring arduous times,
setbacks, and obstacles,
remember…
the stages of our love
will nourish us,
strengthen us,
and cement us
until we reach our destination,
in eternity's embrace.

With this poem, I wanted to capture the progression of love experienced by a married couple. It highlights the various stages and types of love, starting with the initial physical attraction and developing into unconditional love, deep affection, and a strong friendship.

Bound Hearts

The rising moon will see tonight
The love that we express.
And in its light we'll bond our hearts
With love that we confess.

Together we'll cement the vows
No man should dare untie.
And then our hearts will spread their wings,
Inducing them to fly.

So take my hand and sail with me
Toward the waiting sky.
And there we'll seal our marriage vows,
Forevermore to tie.

And when the dawn embraces us,
Our feet will kiss the ground.
United in eternal love,
We'll be forever bound.

When composing this poem, I had in mind the day my wife and I were wed. I fondly remember that day. I am thankful to have found someone who is not only my wife but also my best friend.

Early Morning Frost

It’s a chilly winter morning;
She awakens and strolls toward the window.
A blanket of pearly snow covers the landscape.
She smiles and tilts her head
As he basks in delightful bliss.
Serenity graces her face
As her finger glides along her lips.
Fond memories from years ago
Dance within her mind.
She closes her eyes
And then softly whispers a name.
The wind lashes against the window,
And she notices the morning frost.
Her warm fingers trace his face,
Wiping him away;
Then she returns to sleep.

This poem captures a momentary interaction between a woman who is enjoying a peaceful winter morning and the frost, personified as an admirer, that has accumulated on her window. I employ imagery to contrast the coldness of frost and snow with feelings of warmth, desire, and intimacy. Here, the woman notices the morning frost briefly before wiping it away and forgetting about it. It brings to mind that real-life relationships can sometimes be just as fleeting. This comparison highlights how transient moments of connection can be.

The Painting

The painting is all he has
To remind him of her grace.
The frame displays her beauty
And holds her form in place.

He walks toward the frame,
Her image on the wall,
Then stops to view her face
As tears begin to fall.

His fingers touch her lips,
And he pleads for her return,
But death derides his tears,
The ones he can't unlearn.

When dreams disturb his nights,
He grieves in deep despair
Because they always show
What the painting cannot share.