I Love You
It came upon my senses with the lightness of dew.
Thus I was unaware of the birth of its inception.
But as season followed season I was sure I knew.
“I love you” had grown into a blessed reception.
In an earlier age those words rarely knew my ears
But the dew is heavy now, and I am beyond old.
Some I hardly know say they love me, midst tears.
It’s as if they must make that clear ’ere I turn cold.
“I love you” heard oft as one nears life’s conclusion
Is a way of bonding to candidates for Christ's garden.
I now welcome those words in precious profusion,
Waiting the day He will say “I love you”— and pardon.
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