| Some love stories aren’t loud; they grow quietly, year by year, like roses that weather both sun and storm. Psalm‑shaped love is patient, enduring, and rooted in something deeper than feeling — it is held together by grace. This poem is a reflection of a lifelong covenant: the early promise, the widening family, the shared burdens, the quiet mercies, and the faith that carried two hearts through every season. It reminds us that beauty doesn’t come from perfection but from perseverance, forgiveness, and the gentle hand of Christ at the center. After all these years, love is still in bloom — not because life has been easy, but because grace has been faithful. |
We were young and full of promise,
rings in hand, we said forever.
Down in Reno, hearts wide open,
not yet knowing all we’d weather.
Lake Tahoe held the morning,
soft as words we couldn’t see;
time would tell the quiet story—
petal by petal, you and me.
Like roses in a wild field growing
through the sun and through the rain,
time rolls on, but we keep holding;
love has learned to carry pain.
Every thorn and every blessing,
every tear and every grace—
still in bloom, still together,
after all these years we’ve stayed.
Seven lives around our table,
hearts that learned to bend and mend.
Now the branches reach out farther,
children’s children without end.
Eight and four, the circle widening,
roots run deep beneath it all;
in the quiet of the country,
we have learned to stand, not fall.
Like roses in a wild field growing
through the sun and through the rain,
time rolls on, but we keep holding;
love has learned to carry pain.
Every thorn and every blessing,
every tear and every grace—
still in bloom, still together,
after all these years we’ve stayed.
Now every road is walked together,
every step, both weak and strong.
Doctor’s rooms and daily mercies—
we have leaned on love so long.
Little comes between our breathing;
you’re the peace I’ve come to know.
Stronger still for all we’ve carried,
more than words could ever show.
Christ has been the quiet center
through the years we didn’t see.
Grace has held what we surrendered,
kept our hearts in harmony.
Not a perfect road behind us,
but your faithful hand in mine;
and the roses keep on blooming,
even now, beyond our time.
Like roses in a wild field
growing through the years,
still soft and slow, time rolls on,
but we keep going—
more in love than long ago.
Every thorn has shaped the beauty,
every grace has left its trace;
still in bloom, still together,
held within His perfect grace.
