I spend all of my days, serving.
I wipe tables,
Sweep the floor,
Fix broken things,
Clean the windows.
I make people feel at home,
Feel like everything is taken care of.
I take away the mess. The dirt.
I make everything nice,
And pretty.

But I'm starting to think you're the server now.
You took away my "dirt," my problems.
You fixed my broken parts.
You took care of me,
And made me feel safe.

So what do you say?
Let's wait on each other.

Maybe you aren't a waiter.
Maybe you're a tree.
Through all the seasons, you're still there.

Maybe you're a love song,
Giving me hope and a sense of longing.

Perhaps you're an artist,
Painting the red colors of my cheeks.

Or are you a doctor?
Checking my heart and noticing it's beating very fast, for you.

Or maybe you're just you.
A man who loves me,
Takes care of me,
Cherishes me,
Supports me
And makes me laugh.

You teach me how to love
every
single
day.

When we lay next to each other,
I can't tell where I end and
You begin.

So maybe I don't know what you are,
But I do know,
Who you are.