I could fall in love with this man 

and the way he brushes his teeth 

the way he combs his hair 

the way he cherishes me 

 

I'm going to fall in love with this man 

and the way he washes dishes 

the tension in his arms, the concentration in his brow 

turns me to putty in his hands

 

He leaves me speechless, this man 

even when he dreams, the soft rise and fall of his chest is enough to keep me awake 

begging for his eyes to flutter and gaze upon me 

I watch the escaped curl with tired eyes, and it drops onto his forehead and frames his face 

 

I could write about this one for years 

not days or weeks like the rest 

this one is solid stone, not straw 

he will keep me safe and protected from what is ahead 

my lighthouse on the shore