MINISTRATIONS

MINISTRATIONS

(FOR KYLE, FOR VALENTINE'S)

Oh, the myriad kindnesses i can count on from your lips,
The affectionate ministrations that shower from each kiss.
The gentle hand that ushers forth that beckons me to you,
The glance that says come hither, that I eagerly pursue.

The sweet explosion of the fireworks, in dazzling ramparts fall,
The ministrations of the wise that pour forth from your eyes.
Those crystal blue clarion orbs that softly, sweetly call.
Begging me to answer, stretching forth across my hard times,
With heart-shaped fervor you've become a human valentine,
A sword, a shield, a sacrament, my saber in the snow,
My holy sweet togetherness, my romance of the soul.

When alas, my time is through, I know that I will call to you,
For one last helping of your quiet grace.
Kneel before me stoically while I memorize your face.
Minister unto me one last time, while the moon shines in the sky,
Press your lips so tender to me, say a fond goodbye.
After all these many years, the sorrow and the sin,
Your love where my life started is where it all shall end.

Oh, the many confidences that have passed from me to you,
You held me blameless for them all, an Adam before the tainted Fall. 
Forgiven by his sovereign lord, restored to claim the throne,
Each sin unglued, at last imbued with love that rolled away the stone.
Each day of illness weathered, each careless spill, each hapless stumble,
Vacuumed up, forgotten, you would not let me crumble,
Did more than was asked for and more than was deserved,
I always could depend upon the promise of your word.
My every prayer God answered and my supplication heard.
When alas, the world it ends in either fire or freezing cold,
I hope to ride your shoulders to a place of calm repose,
To place within your graceful hands a bright and fragrant rose.

On this special day for lovers, you are somehow more,
The key that fit the jagged lock of my heart's forsaken door.
After years of ragged hunger and paralyzing thirst,
You've been with me through better times and seen me through the worst.
Your heart it still astounds me, with tenderness surrounds me,
With all the myriad kindnesses that I count in every kiss,
Those golden ministrations that dangle from your lips.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED