she was somebody's only bright light,
and so I handled her with care;
she bruised easily in the dark of night,
while I was just happy she was there;
no match made in Heaven, that one,
wrought behind the closed door,
plastered with playfulness and fun,
what two bodies, somebodys, were for:
too much, never enough,
time spent, not tough;
easy goes as easy flows,
tending another's garden,
making sure it grows;
basking in its glows,
basking in its glows:
we too, we two, who knows?
February 16, 2009, for Tina.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.