To count the ways, I dare to comprehend
such finite love defined in written line,
for quantity shall never find an end
to love that lets infinity define.

A Summer’s day, to love shall not compare,
though shines to bathe your beauty in its light,
and as it wanes, waits breathlessly to share
the passion of a sultry Summer’s night.

To laureates and bards of metaphor,
each scribbled phrase, I bid them credit due,
but all their words and phrases heretofore
can ne’er describe this love I have for you.
When words fall short and poetry departs,
love’s silence fills the cockles of our hearts.