Every day without fail she would say, “I love you.”
I would always nod and smile, then respond, “Me, too.”
She would say, “I mean it. I’ve given you my heart
and it’s yours forever, until our lives will part.”
 
She said her love for me was love she’d never hide.
While I loved her, too, I kept mine deep inside.
I was a man, had my pride, understood my fears
that saying those three words might produce some tears.
 
Decades spent together saw boyhood dreams come true.
Every day was fresh; every day was new.
I truly felt those words, words I couldn’t share
and it took her passing to know it wasn’t fair.
 
Then she took her last breath; it’s scarcely been an hour.
Somewhere deep within I finally got the power.
As I hold her hand, somehow I can’t let go,
knowing my emotions, I had failed to show.
 
Too late I realized just what I was stealing,
the joy that she desired, to hear my deepest feeling.
I lean down and whisper, though she cannot hear
me say, “I love you,” enveloped in a tear.