What we call our own

by Martin
(NY)

There is a time when freedom must be bound
By what we freely choose to call our own.
For if not, someday we will have found
That we have made the choice to be alone.
I cannot call my love for you a choice:
I simply made a turn and you were there;
And all I was came singing with one voice
To lift my soul ten feet into the air.
But lightning bolts do not outlast the storm:
The years demand not ecstasy but will.
My love for you must take a different form,
One that lasts a lifetime, deep and still.
And so I make my choice, if you'll agree,
And seek your answer: Will you marry me?