Ours.
Ours perhaps was never love
of the kind that requires proof,
fervour which naught can drown,
the passion that willingly lays down
itself for other\'s approval, no our own
was something written in a lighter tone.
Ours the keenness of separates
welcoming times of being together,
valuing kindness of comforting hand
when hurts demanded understanding,
yes ours was desire for friendly concord
with choices honoured by harmony\'s laws.
Yet love was there, it grew
with care of each for each,
so in losing you, death too,
of a sort, took life from me.