The Threads of Us
I should be delicate as a flower
Yielding to the breeze of you
Sweet nothings spoken sweetly
Lining our nest with downy things.
Opening myself to you,
Like petals before the sun.
You should be firm as a birch rod
No thicker than your thumb
A provider of material things,
Earning our daily bread
With the sweat of your brow.
Withholding comfort.
Our yin and yan is more
Rippled than pooled
We weave our marriage
From the threads
of us, as we are:
Not as we should be.
reubenwoolley 