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"Be careful,"
I said
In a tired, annoyed voice
And I meant
I'll be so cross with you
If something happens to you
"I'll be careful,"
You promised
As you left for work
And the noise of rain
And you meant,
I have never held a more sacred task
Than protecting you
And that means the part of you
That lives in me
And I think that's why
I made you dinner
when you came back home
Rain still tapping
Let it not be said I wasn't grateful for you
This poem, intense as it is,
This poem, intense as it is, seems to me to call for a sequel.
Starward
yes
what a delightful notion!
And I encourage you to write
And I encourage you to write one, or several. I wish I had been able to read poems like yours during my adolescence, half a century ago. I struggled with desires that were, then even more than now, deemed inappropriate; and what constituted beauty for me was not shared by most of my classmates and peers. Therefore, I could not speak openly. I am certain---110%---that there are others like me on this site or elsewhere. They need the encouragement of your poems to help them with their own struggles.
Starward