Workshop of Love: For Amy

If I were a block of stone,
(and I know sometimes you think I am)
You would be the sculptor's chisel.

If I were a bit of wood,
not large enough to knock upon,
you would be the whittler's knife.

If I were a screw,
I'm talking hardware,
you would be the driver.

If I were a nail,
you would be the pounded thumb
to spare my steely head from harm.

If I were a hammer,
you would be the nail
I would gently loosen from the wall.

If I were sheetrock,
you,
only you,
would be my joint compound.

In the toolshed of my heart,
you wrench me from complacency,
you drill me with passion,
and you caress my tender flesh
with a fresh coat of primer.

You have the key
to my toolbox,
and there is no
tape measure lengthy enough
to encompass our love.