She is so muddled about relationships with strangers,
So firm in what she thinks is right
Yet yields when this prevents disharmony,
Gaining many a field by seeming flight.
She is ever alert to the impositions of others –
Can challenge hard,
At other times as timid as a mouse.
She has a gift to succour those
With needs she can discern;
Service is a thing she gives abundantly
And to watch her is to learn.
Her judgement on such things is good,
And instinct uncanny.
She knows the World gives more kicks than candy
But keeps such suspicions firmly in control –
She feels, oh how she feels
So deep and sad at times –
And sometimes she is like a little child
Just let out of school.
She doubts, oh how she doubts
And still remains so constant true.
She is proper yet provocative in bed
Exciting and as playful as the day we wed;
She has a modesty that doesn’t stop
Her paying love’s dues to the last sweep drop.
Somehow we meet and mix
In an amalgam strange
I flee to find my love beyond
Analyses limiting range.
And when I find her she will smile
And I shan’t say anything at all
Just hold her close to me
And wonder at it all.

(Written in 1967)

March 1995