Wooing you is like wooing a cat.
I walk half way
and wait for you
to meet me in the middle.
Holding out my hand
in a gentle gesture,
I let you sniff me out
to determine whether
or not I’m a threat.
I don’t speak too
loudly,
I don’t move too
quickly,
and I certainly
don’t touch you without
your express permission.
You rarely come
when I call,
but instead of
allowing bitterness to
build within me,
I am learning to
enjoy the surprise of
your unexpected presence.
Your elusiveness
challenges my self esteem,
yet your touch
rebukes my insecurity.

I cannot gain your
affection by force.
Indeed,
I would only succeed
in reaping resentment;
but there is beauty to be found
in the tenderness that is
freely given.