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.
