Almost Love (revised observation)

I still find it one of the most enchanting places in all the world, although, we will never walk here as you once promised.
Perhaps it is for the best, as only a tender mercy of God could hope to re-create this encompassing serenity,
encapsulate the magical drops of dew that sleep on blades of grass,
and once again unleash the intoxicating scent of the morning after rain.

My soul spills out to you, on paper, like ink from a toppled jar;
You speak kindling words, but then, an approach with such prudent forethought,
like that timid yearling, now quivering on the edge of the thicket,
you choose to sacrifice our potential happiness at the cost of an insurmountable risk.

Small birds sing pensive omens to the silence of this waning summer.
The wind whispers its sweet nothings through the branches of these trees.
The stream, barely flowing, holds to the promise of a better tomorrow,
and I, though mostly content to be alone here with the beauty, hope for a better tomorrow too.