No one tells us love takes time to ferment,
like a yeast bread, or fine wine.
The heady fermenting scent unsettles us all the while;
and, we fearfully seek avenues of escape
from the changes in its composition.
Love’s growth challenges our position.
We stop and wonder how we got here;
even though we still do not know where we are.
Thus, such questions make us feel like fools.
Patience is a virtue because it is so rare.
Kindness and faith in one another is the only rule
to follow on the route which keeps love alive.
Blindly, we stumble past years of discontent.
Only after decades of loving do we realize
we carried one another’s hopes and dreams,
like a heavy sack upon our back until
we reached the destination where we could build
the life we were each destined to lead.
Hand in hand we stand and view the space
which has become our most sacred place;
the place we hesitantly share, breathing the same air,
remembering the same joys and sorrows,
hoping for just one more tomorrow
of loving communion and contented union
of two bodies now made one, finally.
We look around us with wonder.
We finally know how to love, over and under.
Love takes time, yours and mine.
annarino writes 