Youth's beauty's like a fleeting glance,
a skip in time -- wild flower's dance.
For love's a rose that's truly wrought,
it's forged in trial and dearly bought.

Now love is not some frothy drink;
a springboard's leap when glasses clink
maturing not -- like nurtured wine,
as leavened bread will spoil with time.

The crocus blooms in winter's gloom,
thus love withstands the face of doom.
When souls agree, entwined, become --
two hearts that beat in time as one.

Love soars and crowns the head of grace,
it dies to self, reveals God's face,
it's like a fortress built on rock,
not subject to time's cruel clock.

(To my wife.)
We've shared a life with twists and bends,
it's stood time's test, on grace depends.
You've stood beside me, sun or storm,
in you God's grace assumes love's form.

I Love you dearest one

R.Owen 5/02/2018