Those who say that love is blind

have never seen the way that your eyes sparkle

when Margaret crawls into your lap

and starts to purr.

It is an honor to be so trusted

by an animal with so little trust to give

and it makes me think that it would be alright

to give you some of mine.

Perhaps one day I will pour my trust

Into the swirls of your fingerprints

when you hold my hand in yours

as we walk to class.

Perhaps one day I will weave my trust

into the stands of your hair

when you lay your head on my lap

and sleep peacefully.

Perhaps one day I will breathe my trust

into the gap between your lips when we kiss

and you will breathe it in and know

that I am yours.

For now, though, I will wait

and hold your hand

like I am afraid to break it,

jerk my hands away from your scalp

the moment you start to stir,

turn so that your kisses land among the stars

against my cheek and chin and nose.

But you are patient,

and you are kind,

and you will wait for the day that I, like Margaret,

will crawl into your lap unbidden,

and be content enough to purr.

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