oh lover

oh lover, patient
keeper of all my woes
when was it that i decided
that i wouldn't mind keeping you close.
sorry for the debacle at your front door
who knew girl with fiery head
would end up soft and silent
purring in your warm bed.

and well, sorry to
have you keep up with all this performance.
girl who seems confident
overt with her self-assurance
covert with her desire
to believe all that she says and more
and to receive the kind of love she has in store.

who am i to make you
treasure hunter, no map or compass 
fight through the thick weeds of uncertainty;
sharpening love into a machete.
and who's to say 
the treasure is worth
all the wounding, bruising and bleeding.

well, no matter
may your wounded hands find me
exploring still, 
and then the nursing later.
and if the wounds cannot heal
may it be enough to have 
witty company
or that your hands have something to hold
red locks, tender arms, or
something more.

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