I could love your image until it shattered under the pressure of my expectation. A sea of worry and doubt rolled into this bond they call marriage. The water is always calmer in retrospect and yet when do we ever take the time to look back and appreciate the end of a weathered storm. Still I feel your presence where it matters, a twin beating of the soul. I call it not a heart. For we own more than that, as we lock our treasured moments safely away at night. It is then, when the possibility of loneliness creeps upon our shoulder, that we hear that sound or that voice. That is the sound of love.