Bends Like a Willow

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.
She bends like a willow. Oh, she bends 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.
Bends like a willow,
like a willow,
a willow.