How do I love you?

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.

It's not by measured breadth or height of soul;

but more a case of needing to be whole,

to fill an empty life and heartless days

with hope of substance, meaning, even grace

before the sex, before the babies stole

away our intimacy - children take a toll

on coupledom demanding years to raise.

I love you with what's left when bills are paid;

what's left between the sheets and kitchen sink.

I love you with what's left before we fade.

I love remembering us, our secret link

to yesterday; yet love the future love has made -

for them our love will grow though we may shrink.