I cannot say that I would make you mine—
That’s ownership. You don’t do that to hearts.
If you bottle them up like local wine,
They will ferment to sour and bitter parts.
I cannot worship all you are and do—
You’re not a god. You’re human to the bone.
But there is such divinity in you
That your smile can draw honey from a stone.
All I can ask is whether you can see
Yourself with someone loyal, kind and giving—
And even if that person isn’t me,
Find a heart full of that and you’ll be living
With love that’s holier than the divine
And happiness that ages like fine wine.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells