She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes. 
It's a sensitive passage she's sailing - 
Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings. 

She rises before me, reading me clearly. 
Empty nest left pressed in the pillow. 
She can shift, she can sway 
and bend like a willow. 

I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap. 
Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre. 
Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter. 
She's a good, a good God-send: she can bend like a willow. 

With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly. 
I'm cool under enemy fire. 
If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire. 

When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold - 
ease me round to her warm way of thinking: 
fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking. 
And I find, given time. I can bend like a willow. 
She bends like a willow.