It’s strange to think our first date
could mark the last of the “starting place.”
No other firsts may come to be—
just us, unfolding history.
I pass by houses lined in rows,
and wonder if one will be where our love grows.
Our joys, our laughter, our quiet nights—
windows glowing with soft, shared lights.
When you drive my car, I can almost see
the future stretched before you and me.
Could this be how, in the years to come,
we bring home our children when day is done?
Because no road feels right without your hand,
your steady pace, your patient stand.
I thought my path would lead elsewhere,
but it brought me a love—so kind, so rare.
Not always easy, but always true,
you said, “I’d rather face the storms with you.”
In the trenches, the fight feels worthwhile,
when shared by hearts with a kindred smile.
It’s the way you love without a word,
in whispers soft, your truth is heard.
For you remind me, on days I fall,
that I’m loved by God, faults and all.
You never try to fix or heal my scars;
but walk beside me, beneath the stars.
And though the path may twist and wind,
you never falter—you never mind.
The road may rise, the storms may grow,
through rocky valleys, in winter’s snow.
But I’m so grateful, step by step,
to walk beside the heart I’ve kept.
Even if this path leads us far apart,
it’s your name that’s etched on my heart.
And though no map guarantees we’ll stay,
I cherish each moment along the way.
