Strange nature of a strange thing called love

Can't say that I understand you--in fact not at all
When I was fifteen, they asked me once
I fumbled for an answer with empty innocence
and came up with a blank paper
I could fold paper hearts then
I've forgotten how
old bus tickets became fragile hearts
If the numbers were lucky I knew I would be loved
You were that simple
You were origami decked onto numerology
if I could get the folds right and the digits
But now
here I am
there you are
I say your name easily enough
a simple three syllable
but your meaning
I can't excavate
every night as I walk home in the lashing cold
I think that I can grow you
that you are the reward at the end of patience
that you are worth waiting for
and I walk in the dark. I walk.