Her
She’s out tonight. At a play that didn’t interest
Him. So he was home
Thinking of her and the mystery
Of his love for her. He could not
Think of anyone he had ever loved
So much and could not help
But wonder why. It was the innocence,
Of course. How did she maintain it?
One just did not want her to be hurt
Ever. She brought out — cliché
Of clichés— the protective in him.
And he had no words for that.
She’s not home yet, and he worried
About her riding her bike
At night in the city and knew
Without her he would be lost.
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