My Love

My ginger sun, my forest deep,
Your skin, a freckled painting, sweet.

Your hands, so rough, they tell a tale,
Of labor hard, and winds that wail.

But when they cup my face with grace,
And dry the tears upon my face,
They're gentle breezes, soft and low,
A tenderness I'm blessed to know.

Those hands that spank and pull my hair,
A playful dominance, beyond compare,
A fire ignites, a thrilling chase,
A love so wild, in time and space.

Your back, it aches, a heavy load,
Of demons fought, along life's road.

I rub the pain, with whispered plea,
To steal your burdens, set you free.

And in your arms, I find my home,
A precious treasure, never to roam.

Held close, embraced, I understand,
My ginger sun, my strong, good man.