“You love me as much as you can”
She told me twenty-three years ago
Smiling at me as she took my hand
And said “yes”; why? I’ll never know
I don’t know if she saw something
Or merely felt my deficiency
But it was clear that I was lacking
In what she hoped to receive from me
Did she think that I would change
Or in her mind minimize my defect?
Was she not thinking long-range
Not taking time to seriously reflect?
I, of course, am glad she acceded
After twenty-three years I’ve no complaint
She gives to me what I’ve always needed
In my eyes she’s a perfect saint
And that’s a difficult standard to duplicate
In retuning her love I’m sadly deficient
My best efforts don’t even rate
Loving “as much as I can” is wholly insufficient
So I’m always in her debt and ever will
I’ve really no hope of being able to repay
Which is why I ask the question still
Am I the one she was sent to save?
After all these years she’s still at my side
Even though her prescient comment’s still true
I’ve tried to make it a comfortably fun ride
A journey I hope she’ll never rue
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