Your hands touch me
Smoothing the contours and softening the rough edges I feel but you don’t see
You mould me under your hands
Your fingers pushing and kneading
Creating shapes and lines that together build a muse of your liking
Of your need
Of your desire.
You are gentle but with firm strokes
You teach me to walk tall and you release my inhibitions so that I sing
You stand back and watch how others behave around me
Proud of me in how I present myself and therefore you.
You let me stand,
On my own when I need
But always just a step behind
In case I should fall
In case I should also perchance,
You are there.
Sometimes you walk ahead of me
‘Just to check things out’, you say
And I see you are protective
Your behaviour inspiring my fragility and strength as one
Your actions speaking to me of dismantle quiet care.
And you continue to look at me
From different angles
Touching me from every point you see
Adoring as one could
A model of perfection,
An idol of adoration
Worthy of pride and love.
I am your muse
I am your princess
And I shall serve you with the love and honour you deserve.