My words flow not as freely as before
To vocalize my love and sing your praise.
It pains me, cuts me deep and to the core
To struggle when I strive to count the ways
You are to me: the holder of my heart;
The harbor for my loud and storm-tossed soul;
The woman that I love; the one last part
Apart from which no part of me is whole...
Beloved, held in every thought of mine,
I walk the widow's walk with tear-streaked face
Until you cross that far horizon line
And I can hold you tight in my embrace...
I broken sing, until your drawing near,
My love for my love, too removed to hear...