Will you be my love, and may I be yours? May we walk together in the cool crisp autumn sunset, stomp through leaves of gold and apple red in quiet comfort? May we find a lighted bench to sit hand-in-hand and speak of the grand old tree that stoops broken and worn on a sidewalk near a busy street? May we lean over coffee mugs–yours black, mine a creamy hazelnut–contemplating Dickens, Tolkien and Lewis while the rain streams down from heaven–tears of joy perhaps from a gracious God who loves what he is creating between us? May we walk along crowded streets filled with the hustle and bustle of the season of Peace and find that in giving of ourselves to others, our love grows stronger? May we share our hearts, our dreams, our tears and know that in a word, in a touch, in a glance, we are discovering the very color of each other’s eyes? And as we look into those eyes, may we find a love without fear? (Will you be my love, and may I be yours?)