Worship Him

Her hands caressed his bald head, soft, clean, oiled,

With the economy of motion, he

Sat there as she slowly massaged and toiled.

Her hands permitted him to only see.

She placed shoes in front of him like a dean.

He put his foot in each shoe with no strife.

She bent down to lace them, unlike a queen.

Every movement that she made addressed life.

He raised from the chair to stand tall.

She looked in his eyes and said, “You are great.”

Fully clothed, he stood like a pole and all.

She told him that she’d always be his mate.

Her care remained totally true and real.

It was something that he could wholly feel.