You Are Setting the Table

I am no man to stand up

To my feelings, initially disruptive.

I am a man to write it down and wonder.

Your face, in dealing with labor,

Proves beauty to be so rare

In the face of another.

You work, taking my thoughts

By surprise with the innocence

Of strong things, serious eyes,

Pursuits of which I value

More than the infatuation

That is the love of something new.

You are not new, but rather timeless

As sighs beneath sunset or sunrise,

That familiar perfection in the face

Of good dreams, where hours after

You stay under the tide of romances,

Affections, and well-taken chances.

Maybe my overcoming these feelings

By way of bold action is in contradiction

To my nature to crave

That which is out of reach

Or taste that which will destroy me.

I may need help,

For you are setting the table

And I am making much of you.