At Last, by Lang Leav

Love looks pretty on you. Makes you soft, tender, proud.
Makes you sit up and take notice. Gives you a home to set
down your things.

What a blessing it is, to have music and dancing and poetry.
What a gift it is, to look at someone and say,

I’m so happy to have found you—at last, at last, at long, long
last—you’re here.