`
my love~

you are not deeper
than the pond i fished as a boy,
or better than the bread
baked by my mother.
your lips are not
softer than pillow
of childhood,
or safer than the arms of my father.
you are not wiser,
or truer, or more real
than imagination and daydreams.
you are not more perfect
than the perfection of innocence.
but you are now, and you are real,
and you are lovely.


)Kaleb