Only my beloved
could walk into
NASA
in Dickies, and work boots,
with astronauts
and business suits.
Because my beau
shoots
for the stars
He wages bright wars.
He is clever and
resourcefully smart.
He's also hopelessly,
harmlessly
terse.
And only
my beloved
could cut wood
and cuddle
seamlessly keeping
close to me
and keeping me warm.
And his hands
are perfect,
and his eyes
get hooded
by his chocolate colored brows
that I adore
when he frowns.
My beloved
is handsome and strong.
Princely
and brawn.
He keeps me safe
warm and worn.
He's broad
walking charm,
he's just a boy
with a barn.
Is it funny
I said
when I was a kid
that I'd grown up
to fall down for
a man with a. farm?