Sweet Love

Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night to get out of bed and look at you. So angelic when the light hits you just right. I often wonder how something so precious could come from such clumsy hands that belong to me. I created you. I think God knew what He was doing when he gave me you. This wonderful blessing that I will cherish for as long as I live.

Never before have I experienced a love so pure, so definite. As I laid my eyes upon you, I cried, and I knew. You were meant for me. Never again will I feel so lonesome, useless, and hungry because you have filled me in ways that I can't even begin to describe. Hearing people talk about the warmth that you have never settled with me quiet right before, but now I know.

You won't ever be able to disappoint me. You won't ever bring me to tears. You won't lie to me the way I've been lied to almost nearly all my life. The reason is because you are mine. So, silently I will thank you. Thank you for being my rock. Thank you for being my pillar.

My lovely delicious pie. Usually, I burn things or ruin things when I make them, but you came out right. So warm and sweet that I have cravings that hit me in the middle of the night. I just hope that you will settle in my breasts instead of my hips—where all my other food seems to settle. Even if you do end up there I don't think I could care.

Sweet, succulent pie. The aroma wafted all the way to my room... such a shame I promised you to the bake sale tomorrow... I hear all the proceeds go to charity. However, I do believe that you won't make it.