If a million sighs could tell me, you would release them

This hurt is too deep for word or sigh.

If a cover could contain it you would write a book,

Pen and ink would circumscribe the whole of it

Yet, there are no pages to contain the sorrow.

When the winter of the heart can find no warming,

And the icy fingers of death will not release its grip on the scarring pain;

then I will shelter you in a whisper silent covering of love.

Without word, or gesture, or writing, we will hide from the devouring winds

until the blades of hope spring forth to rekindle forgotten dreams.

Your place is in my safe arms.

Your heart listening to the steady rhythm of mine;

forgetting the cares of the day.

At home and at peace, loved through every season.

Loved as you are.

In awe of the treasures and joys of shared dreams.