Little Weed (written 07/06)

I can hardly write about you,
although I want to.
It is a private thing,
that gentle grows in the spaces between us.

Tender and fragile,
it is new, and so beautiful that it makes my throat ache.

Your boundaries hold me,
keep me
with my hands in my lap.
Keep me
polite,
restrained.
You offer me friendship
and I take it,
happy in that gift.

But knowing too,
that the day may come.
when I may be able to no more resist,
crawling to you,
than breathing.

It is there between us
unnurtured,
but alive,
tender, baby leaves
slow unfurl to the sun.

This connection, grows slow in the shadows we have placed it,
as our friendship blooms in cultivation,
a wild little weed.
I have not the heart to cut it out, or maim it’s natural existence.
So there, in it’s little cracks,
it takes it’s hold,
and winds me slowly into you.