The Handyman's Romance

She was turpentine
She cleaned me of the dirt and scruff
Of my laborious life.
She was brushstrokes of varnish
That coaxed my blank expressions
To illuminate light.
She was the welder's hand
That seared us together
In sparks of fire;
The furnace heat
That made our shivering fears
To tire.
And she was the digger of lands
In an age so long ago
When she laid our love
That now we watch grow.
She was that most beautiful tiller of sands
In her ocean gown
That made it so easy to settle down.

 

 

Copyright © 2005 Prabhath Avadhanula