Lainey On The Cam 4 Poem by David McLansky

I grip the handles of the oars
And gently pull us away from shore
Into the center of the stream,
I dip the oars hard and clean;
Glad to be your galley slave
Proud of my precision with the blades;
I look at you with renewed hope,
Gain confidence with every stroke
Repeating quietly your gentle words,
The sweetest orders ever heard;
You command my heart with words you spoke,
My arms gains strength with every stroke;
I bend my back to the task
Then remember what you asked,
You said for me, to “gently row, ”
I slacken pace, and go more slow,
Now caught within the center stream,
I drift with you as in a dream;
Oh rare perfection, oh woman formed,
In tranquil skies you arouse a storm,
Be patient I remind myself,
I must proceed as if by stealth,
Cadging Time to soon restore
The fragile heart that beats so sore;
The only liberty that I take
Is to gaze at you for your own sake;
I stare into your gentle eyes
Sweet captive of the orbs I prize.