Only with you my dear..

I'm not very good at a lot of things,

I cannot paint
your pictures,
because the beautiful 
things in my head
cannot be translated.

Nor can I sing to you,
as my voice has an
uncanny habit of 
falling flat.

Nor can I play for you
as my fingers fumble
when my thoughts
cross over to how you look,
watching me.

But I can brush the
knots out of your hair, 
and work the knots
out of your back
when your day
has become too
much  to bear...

I am not good at much,
but I will be good to you.

(D.S)