Counting the ways I love you

Is not like counting stars

Or charting constellations

To navigate by

But like counting raindrops.

They keep coming

As long as the cloud is overhead.

They form puddles on my sidewalks

Pour through the leak in my roof

Flood my basement

And with great effort, if you asked,

I could clear the waters

With an eye dropper,

scientifically, day by day,

But for now I simply wade

Chest deep in warmth and awe

And count myself lucky

That this singular love

Is mine.