your hand

What is love to me?

All I ever wanted to see,

was your hand extended for mine.

“I’ve come for you, my love,

For you I’ve come to define,

‘What is love to me?

No more than a glass of wine?’

Nay, love is a story,

a kiss in the moonshine.

Two hands holding,

fingers intertwined.

The balance of two souls,

perfectly aligned.

That balance I’d never trade,

nor ever decline.

My love for you,

shall never be borderline.

So how of a diner,

alone on the coastline?

Then I could smile,

and watch you dine.

Nothing is stronger,

than our hearts combined.

And it is your love,

that I will always enshrine.”

And this is when,

I’ll take your hand in mine.