Another Love Poem

Ah yes, the time has come again

dearest, to profess my “undying devotion”,

and yet as I stand here in front of you now,

I’m afraid I have nothing to give you

but my eyes.

This whole scene whispers softly

of the woman getting off the plane,

luggage in hand, the expectant fiance

coming forth not for the kiss –

but for the words.

Tell me you love me, oh,

tell me you do.

Tell me of the lonely nights

spent crying under the moon,

hopeless lover, tell how you are

nothing without me.

Would they still call it a love poem if

she bit her lip, unable to tell him

of tears, but of nights spent dancing

in Paris, drinking with strangers,

having adventures under the stars,

content never to ride a plane again?

I think it might be my favorite

love poem of all, actually –

here, at the end of it all,

her still getting off a plane

and into his arms.