There was so much to have, back then:
It all seemed right, and overdue --
But none of that meant anything
When I met you.
Perhaps my memory's faulty, but
You seemed to take up every space
Within my brain, as all my dreams
Fell into place.
But nothing could prepare me for
What I would feel or hear or see
As you revealed the gift that is
Yourself to me --
There was so much to have, back then.
But none of it seemed real, or true,
Except the single, burning fact