This morning I wrote this poem as I was reflecting on Elana and I and thinking about what I think God wants from us.
Her hair disheveled as she walks out, just woken.
The curves of her soft shirt alluring my opening eyes,
Light flowing through her, a brightening fire rising.
Her heart is full, passion inflamed, truth surely spoken.
Even in the morning, even before the task of work cries,
The desires and gifts of her heart all around me cling.
Her challenge, her beauty, her fight, surround me then,
A gift of God not always treasured, but for which my heart cries
For her head on my chest, her heart in mine, a praise I bring.