Poem …

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.