Sandra She crafts me colored robes, covering my wretchedness, warming a misshapen soul, hiding blemishes and scars with pure, simple thoughts, sewn from tender fingers. She feeds me meals gourmet savory, filling fragrance, not unlike her skin, so soft and yielding, compelling my desires in ultimate comfort. She wraps my worries sane, wending hurtful memories, turning sorrows mirthful, changing cares to laughter, with spells, charmed gifts, magic wafts of love. She restores my soul, nearly unrecoverable, strengthening my torn spirit with no conditions or demands, a radiant heart of steel, perfection as intended. She breathes G-d's Eve, a rib gladly given, the helpmate designed by mystery and glory, though it took a lifetime to find each other. |
Sandra For my wife |
