She’s like a little squirrel—
nervous, nimble, with eyes that hold galaxies.
Will you come to me, love?
I won’t hurt you—
just sit still, and let you breathe in peace.

She’s a sunflower—
spinning gold in the wind, joyful even when bruised.
Can I be your sun?
I’ll rise for you every morning,
no matter how cloudy the world gets.

She sleeps like the sky—
dark velvet draped over the world.
Can I be your stars?
I’ll hold you in constellations,
blanket you with hush and warmth.
Or your moon—
watching from just close enough,
loving you in silence
so you never feel alone.

She’s a petal in the wind—
soft, yet unyielding,
holding her dignity like armor
until she quietly breaks.
Let me be your rain—
healing, soothing,
a shelter you can tuck beneath
when thunder knocks too loudly.

If the earth grows too heavy,
I will carry you—barefoot, if I must,
just to lighten your steps.
Will you trust me?
Even once—
I’ll spend forever earning it.