All that I've written is for you, my dear, Don't blame me for what I cannot control. The Lord knows that the wait has grown severe, But patience is the virtue of the soul. Yet he who endures God's tests shall be blessed, What are twenty years when love's worth much more? I love you, though you doubt and feel distressed, I love you, though overthinking may shut the door. Even if my end comes by your own hand, I love you, love you, with my very breath. You are the praised, the one I shall commend, You are the loved, the one I'll love till death. You, with eyes of whiskey, prayers in your name, You are God's creation, my heart's true flame.