words of love

The words of love,
I held so deep in my heart for her,
reached closer and closer
 to paper with pen.

Their flow about to be fully released,
but it was not to be.

The time was at hand,
for over this time,
it be known to me,
just what her love did mean.

My love was so slow to grow,
this I do know,
greater with every day,

but like mighty oak from seed,
slowly reaching for sky,
with roots running so deep,
it was unshakable.

A weed does grow so fast,
as a prize for the impatient,
but how many do last,
for they grow only on surface.   

I told her of these things, 
and asked that we take it slow,
and give this love the time to grow,
strong and steadfast and true.

And as it grew I thought she knew,
though I never told her so.

But she could not hold on,
and had to let go,

because my love for her,
she did not know,
and could not see.

But, for why, God only knows,
I was yet not ready to let it show.

So she had to walk away,
with out her prize won.

Why was it this had to be.