Grace

You shower me with your grace,
but I receive it but with my little hands.

Your greatest gift.

You sit on a throne,
Above me, but by a whisker.
Unsung go my little actions.
In vain are my juvenile overtures.
Isn’t this your greatest gift?
I have been saved from a weak and unsure desire.

Come, sit with me for a moment....

I am working, toiling, like
I am rowing to the end of the world.
Come, sit with me for a moment in leisure.

The world can wait,
Time can waste itself,
My work can be done, but later.
Come, sit with me for a moment in leisure.

Let my face be perched opposite your perfection.
Let my soul soar as it senses beauty.
Let my heart flutter at the thought.
Let my eyes view their purpose.
Let my mind lose itself.
Come, sit with me for a moment in leisure.

A strange posture....

You hold me in your arms,
My arms envelope you,
Our eyes are locked.
We gaze into our lives.
A strange posture this for me.
Someone with me, in my room,
Who does not share it, or need it.
I dare not give,
I dare not ask.