You gave a painting, of a hut in the forest
and you told me, we would live there.
Your fingers held the brush with ease
and you painted beauty on canvas
Pine trees all around the thatched roof,
cradling the small windblown lot.
You gave me the earth
so I could build a home out of that hut
A home that would wrap its arms around you
when you walked in that door, tired from you daily chores
I knew that my love, my smiles, and my passion
would make mincemeat of your tiredness,
And holding me to your heart, you would say
“I knew you were made for me, so we can live
in this weathered hut, which is my Paradise!