No joy, no beauty, no adventure
For me can be complete and rounded
Till I've recounted it to you;
Till I have seen your eyes light up,
Your smile reach to the story's essence;
Until I've heard your searching comment
Or sensed from the look upon your face
Appreciation or genial scorn.
Only then can anything
For me be finished or assessed.
As with events from day to day,
So with my life from year to year;
Without you it is incomplete,
A heart-ache and a dismal waste.
Do you see, now, what love can mean?
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