To Lex-o, I would have written you a poem some day but a birthday calls for rush delivery.
You turned fifteen yesterday, caught in cusp, our bitter-sweet, our tender-fierce
Amidst the giggles of sisters, born and borrowed, surrounding you, tender-fierce.
You growl, chest deep and throaty, warning this agressive world, leave me be
Spin about with a blink, bury your head in my shoulder and purr, tender-fierce.
Manic, you surge ’round the room, howling out the angry anthem in your ear
Then a new song overtakes you, light, crooning serenade, tender-fierce.
You boast big that nothing bothers you, skin an invulnerable leather hide
So we let our eyes slide over your tear-streaked cheek, gift to tender-fierce.
Wide eyes, lit with icy blue fire, a waterfall frozen bright as winter morning, poised
To crash against earth, or melt slowly through spring, trickle to flood, tender-fierce.
You flung me a challenge, precarious wall of teasing built upon deep foundation of hope,
Bold beggar, in front of them all, write a poem for me, Kate. As you wish, tender-fierce.
Photo Credit: Frozen Waterfall by Marcos Reyes on Flickr; used under Creative Commons license.