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.