Frailty

It is the not asking that lingers.  I stand at the ready

with explanations and answers, my timid heart shyly

beating in my cupped hands.  There is the shadow of the

self that hesitates, accuses, turns to try again.  I want

you to be curious, to draw close, lean in, put your warm

hands under mine, lift my trembling fingers to gaze, 

tender, amazed, at the heart within my hands.  I want 

you to look up, forehead touching mine, see into my 

soul, finally give yourself up to love.  I conjure you
whole, alive, here.  The longing repeats and I keep
dreaming you into my life.