She draws me in when she is around. If she's across the room, my mind wanders from the task at hand. If she's within reach, my hands wander too. She's usually somewhere in between, slipping just out of my grasp, darting in and out of range, tension building. I can still push her too far, play too much. She expects me to be better, wants me to be more. We have this in common, this surprise at how far I still need to go, this wondering when I'll grow. I have only the best of intentions. She wishes I would cut my hair and shave, and I will, eventually. I want her to come over here and play with me, and she will, eventually. I like her in jeans with a sweater, or without. I like to put my hand on the small of her back and pull her in. I like to lift her from the ground. She likes that too. I like every part of her. If I could change anything at all, I would be a better man. I would learn more grace for this delicate dance we share. I would bend and kiss the ground where we have walked and know that I am a fortunate man.
Hello friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
P. S. - Aphter: Nine. Thanks for stopping by.
