I am the mouse quivering
under a claw,
the crumpled paper
tossed into a bin,
and ***** clothes
shoved under the bed.

You are the fire that spreads
in a field of dead grass,
a freshly washed blanket
still warm from the dryer,
and the hint of lemon found
in sweet desserts.

I am a baseball being hurled past the pitcher's mound
at lightning speed.

You are the waiting glove,
always ready to catch me.