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.