Love That Deepens

I wake and find you there,

still wrapped in the quiet light of morning,

and for a moment I forget the years

that have carried us this far.

You reach across the distance of the bed

and everything I thought I knew about love

reshapes itself in a single touch.

There is no rush now,

no frantic need to prove we belong.

We have learned the slow magic

of staying.

Our laughter comes easier,

our silences feel safe enough

to hold whole worlds.

Yet something turns.

I realize love is not a younger thing,

not a spark that fades once the fire is known.

It grows deeper as the clocks spin on,

gathering memory,

sorrow,

joy,

and every wild hope we refused to let go.

I look at you and see

not only who you were,

but every version of you that has walked beside me.

And somehow,

the weight of years makes this love feel lighter,

like a lantern we pass between us,

its glow steady even as the night deepens.

I am still falling,

not the headlong tumble of first days,

but the quiet, breathtaking descent

into a love that refuses to end.