A Valentine Poem

oh the way you look 
at a man.
the kind of man
who brings sunflowers, 
too many to fit in a vase;
the kind of man
who picks out which
he'd like to kiss off you; 
the kind of man
who makes your coffee 
every morning 
(caramel colored and
and not quite sweet enough 
but it's the best part 
of every day); 
the kind of man 
who sleeps next to you
in your high school 
chasing old demons 
to blaze new paths; 
the kind of man
with a baby 
on his hip, 
reading a bedtime story,
kissing scraped knees 
and fixing broken toys;
the kind of man 
with hard worked hands,
integrity and loyalty 
made flesh; 
the kind of man 
who has heard your 
worst words
and seen your
worst face; 
the kind of man 
that takes your hand
in the car
for no reason;
the kind of man 
who has fought 
with you 
and for you;
the kind of man
who has sat through 
for the sake of 
sick babies
and pregnancy cravings;
the kind of man 
who calls you beautiful 
in the morning.
oh how you look at 
that kind of man.
you look at him 
like he is the last one
on earth;
the only one ever.

oh that man.