A Thousand And One

I simply sit and gaze,
At the parchment in front of me,
Pondering at the ways,
To declare that we are meant to be,

I do this every day,
I write until my fingers turn blue,
Writing every last way,
Why I'm meant to be with you,

There must be a thousand reasons,
That I have written down,
In the last four seasons,
And yet I still frown,

Because even though,
I have a thousand reasons done,
I know there is still room,
For a thousand and one.