Reasonless

You see, I love her.
I do not need reasons,
though the ones I have would fill a small volume
written in my tiny scratchy hand.

I could bore you to death,
worse than a teenager with his first love,
only I am grizzled and worn,

old enough to have given up,
to have shut my heart,
held together with duct tape and prayer,
to have shut it away in a dark closet
for safety.

That,
that would make sense.
Love does not.

No, love does not.
And just because I am blessed with an extravagance of reasons,
does not mean that list is what turned my heart
from a fearful child to a lion.
There is no reason.
There is only love.
And that is enough.