You lend me a strong warm arm,
clasp my body closer.
You lend me a warm heart-solid chest
to cradle my face against.
You reach, tender fingers hands tracing
the tears as they roll my cheeks.
You lend — loan — run — reach —
Hand you to me like water
pours into scorched desert sand.
You come to me like a golden treasure
hidden in the ashes of burned ruins.
In these alone hours
when you are where you are
where you are owned – belong – home —
I think of borrowing and returning.