What Matters Most Is You

The only things that matter near as much to me as you
are all the silly little things you used to say and do.
It means I feel those little things are mostly in the past
and it scares me so to think our love might be so downcast.

Time and life and stress and such wear heavy on the sole
that's burdened with a never ending stream or so I'm told.
I wish there were some confidence despite the yesterdays
that could polish old knights armor in corners where it lays
unused by damsels, ladies fair, unused by honored queens,
replaced by doubt both in and out of ugly dreaded scenes.

I'm here and have been everyday, for family and friends
and though I stay, not run away, I wonder how it ends.
I think I know what ends do store for loves that slip and fade
a sad good bye, a mournful cry, a loathsome price been paid.
If ending means our last big fight, our final ugly word,
to pray to stay would be to say we know we're both absurd.

I want no part of ends like these or means unto those ends!
Instead I hope we learn to cope not break a love that bends.

My heartfelt words I spare for she who cherishes the deed
and shares her troubles forthright, please, and recognizes need.