It’s not a thing you can get used to,
Trying for a fit;
It’s sheer uphill, the road to bliss,
And when you’re there, that’s it.
Exciting, thrilling, always new,
Full of joy and fear;
Things race by, yet move so slow
A month can take a year.
Love must wait, quite patiently,
To find its proper form;
Yet there it is, when we can look,
The peace within the storm.