I do not love you like the annual, or the summer rose with its cast away petals wilting under the dry sun or curling their edges away from the chill breath of fall.
I do not love you like the snowflake with its ephemeral individuality.
I do not love you like the rain, not the single drop fallen in the ocean or the slow motion treasure captured on film as it drips from a goblet of jungle leaves.
I do not love you like time rushing to getting away from us, racing us to brittle bones and arthritis forgotten memories and stories told over and over to whatever children will listen. They will all be children to us then.
I love you inexplicably like this English language that began as French and Anglo Saxon became lovers as they conquered one another and merged. I love you like this evolution this assimilation of every culture into one beautiful, blossoming compilation of sounds and meaning for every possible thought.
I love you in this way, which won’t lessen or not know how it feels about you when the future speaks an English you and I won’t understand.
I love you like these poems transformed into pure light and cast from our screens into the universe, rippling in luminescent waves beyond our spectrum for an immeasurable eternity.