Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses

What if one day I wasn’t there for you? And you were left needing me If I wasn’t there When you woke up

Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt

Water Beach pools and fountains Rivers creeks and waterfalls The sound The feel Floating Weightless

I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench

Love is sincere Sincerely Wanting to connect Love makes you crazy Insanity that makes you fly

Beautiful legs The right shape and curve Olive color without the green That tans and doesn’t burn Until you see

Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up

Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall

The ugliest shade Of green We envy The car The job

It’s not that I’m sad Though I am It’s not that I’m discouraged Though I am It soaks deeper