She had been crushed/
by words dropped on her
with power,
by one who used/
and abused/
them well.
I could tell/
her that my verbs/
and nouns/
and words/
were tender/
and soft /
like butterfly kisses,/
but only time/
could heal her/
and make her well/
once more flow.
His soft, tender words/
rained warmly over and in/
her, unexpected.
I see couples in/
Church tenderly touching. I /
wonder: Where is she*?
OR
*mine?
When you won’t let me/
in, I can’t show you my deep/
and tender feelings.
I don’t have to act like
I care what you say.
I just do.
I will talk intelligently…
even gently,
because I am
and I am.
You will laugh
because I’m witty,
funny,
clever,
and insanely
humble.
There is no hurry
to lay you down
if I can hold you,
kiss you tenderly,
and listen to you
and converse.
Pity that
I’m not taller.