Loving you is how I make it.

I take my axe,

the one that has no blade,

its narrow of darker shade,

its tip too blunt to make out a spade.

I take my shield neither round or boxed outside in;

I caress these items like a babe from a father and forged them like no other.

Cradle them as if it were my only family.

One to sheild me from myself,

One to be used to protect.

Alas when you and ours I see, I drop them as a playthings;

thee hence I cometh to your side.

Thou and order like a maid to his master.