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.

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