-when he began transforming his guest room...for me.

-our first Christmas after he moved me home and created our mantle from my old place.

-all over him after his days of doing carpentry with his Dad this spring.

- his scent I crave each day when he returns to our haven after a day of work.

-all over him again last Saturday as he sanded an antique cabinet for me.

I’ll never tire of the scent of sawdust. The scent is etched into my olfactory memories as one so sweet- blood sweat, tears and sawdust.
He puts all of himself into us.
For me and to me, he is love.
And I’ll never tire of the scent of sawdust.

Oh dear one, how the world has shown its fangs to you

How it has dripped venom on the satin of your joy, how it has eroded away the sunshine of your pride

It has done its best to strike you down, to eat away at the color inside your soul

But you are radiant, like the light of the winter waters, you hold the warmth of a southern spring in your smile

Take the sword that lays in your heart, and draw it with grace and pride

For you are fighter that stands to the darkness around

You are the eighth wonder of the world, you are the reason for many’s happiness

You are dear soul, you are a wonderous soul

You are you

You told me once, of my inherent ugliness
That I was a "fat"
That I was "prideful"
That I was "vain"
That I was "headstrong"
That I was "flawed"
That I was "unloveable"
You aimed to crush me, for your own pleasure and gain
But I knew better, for I realized
What you were really saying, you hate my joy, and I loathe you have it
For I am ugly on my insides, and wish you unrest
I took your words, and threw them to a fire
And walked along my path
With my "fat"
"pride"
"vainity"
"confidence"
"flaws"
With joy on my cheeks, and grace, in my heart