Too Late for Your First Love, but Eager to Be Your Last

In the realm of love's intricate dance,

Where heartstrings stray and passions enhance,

There lies a tale of longing untold,

Of love delayed, like a treasure of gold.

Too late, alas, for your first love's embrace,

Yet eager still to be your last in this race.

Worried whispers echo within my soul,

As time's fickle tide threatens to steal the whole.

Oh, how I yearn for that sweet moment in time,

When love's euphoria was both yours and mine.

But fate, unforgiving, had its own decree,

And missed chances became an unwelcome decree.

Regret dances with shadows in my heart,

As I yearn to rewind this eternal depart.

Yet, footprints of the past can no longer tread,

On the sands of what could have been, spread.

But fear not, my dearest, for hope yet remains,

For true love is not bound by temporal reins.

Though the first bloom may have wilted away,

A new bud awaits, ready to sway.

Eagerly, I await in the garden of fate,

Ready to sow love's seeds, to erase our late.

With every beat of my anxious heart,

I plead for the chance to play my part.

For in your embrace, I long to find solace,

To chase away shadows, to illuminate darkness.

To be your shelter in life's stormy gale,

And on love's canvas, etch our immortal tale.

Worries may haunt, but trust I offer,

A love that will withstand any falter.

For when two souls intertwine in this way,

Time's whispers of concern will slowly sway.

So, let us cast worry to the gentle breeze,

For love's journey unfolds at its own ease.

Though I missed claiming your first affection,

I am eager, forever, to be your last in connection.