Love is Patient

Love is patient although not always wise

Allowing her to dance in fields of red

A wife he loves too often to chastise

Afraid to lose her in the flower bed.

He gives her freedom as she combs her hair

Offering the thing she won’t take from him

He stops himself after and doesn’t dare

She will return after an interim

Though not alone and not before the bloom

Of rose petals, too succulent to wilt.

He sees them scattered all about her room

And they are boldly laid upon her quilt.