She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes. 

It's a sensitive passage she's sailing - 

Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings. 



She rises before me, reading me clearly. 

Empty nest left pressed in the pillow. 

She can shift, she can sway 

and bend like a willow. 



I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap. 

Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre. 

Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter. 

She's a good, a good God-send: she can bend like a willow. 



With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly. 

I'm cool under enemy fire. 

If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire. 



When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold - 

ease me round to her warm way of thinking: 

fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking. 

And I find, given time. I can bend like a willow. 

She bends like a willow.