If

Would that I were glass.

Tall slender cylinder

containing water.

Life-giving water.

I would know the touch of your hand.

I would know your lips

on me,

Repeatedly.

I would bear the honor

Of pouring into you

That thing that soothes your tongue,

Refreshes senses,

Nourishes body.

If.

I were a glass.

Would that I were ceramic.

A coffee mug.

Short and Thick

Willing to be handled,

I would retain the heat you sought

When chilled

To bone and marrow.

I would be the thing

Pouring heat into your core.

Keeping you Awake. Alive.

And warm.

If.

I were ceramic.

Would that I were blanket.

Soft. Supple. Secure.

I would wrap myself around you.

Every night.

Throughout the night.

Caress your body

with my self.

Never growing weary

Of the Purpose, Privilege, Pleasure

Of covering you with love.

If.

I were a blanket.

Would that I were pillow.

Oh, I would be your pillow.

Beckoning, Receiving,

Cradling head with softest touch

While you slumbered

While you dreamt

At last, at peaceful rest.

I would See your face.

Smell your hair.

Kiss your cheek.

Listen closely to your breathing,

Your sighing of contentment ,

– Knowing –

You were Mine,

While you slept.

If.

I were your pillow.

Would that I were these things four,

Savoring the blessing

Of meeting basic needs,

Needs of morning,

Needs of day,

Of night.

I would know

The feeling

Of being

What you Sought.

If.

I were

Those things.

Leah

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