The heirloom

If this rose is unfinished, let it be,
Still holding a few quiet things for you and me.
Let one petal wait, let one gold leaf shine,
Let the years ahead make the rest of it mine.

Our letters rest softly, engraved into stone,
Still too new to carry all we have not yet known.
For love is not finished the moment it starts,
It grows in the mornings, the rooms, and our hearts.

You came like the daylight that enters a room,
And somehow made ordinary places bloom.
You turned passing moments to memories that stay,
And made me look forward to every new day.

So I do not ask time to make all things complete,
Only for more of your hand finding mine when we meet.
More laughter beside me, more prayers in the night,
More years of still choosing you, over and right.

More roads we will wander, more places made ours,
More seasons together, more uncounted hours.
More mornings where somehow, though years may have flown,
I look at our life and still feel I am home.

So let the rose wait with a petal unturned,
There is still so much loving we have not yet learned.
And when May finally comes, with its promise in view,
It will not be an ending—it starts me with you.

Erin, if this is the first morning we see,
Then every one after, stay here beside me.