The Gentle The

A word
as simple as THE
consumes my mind.

THE.
T and H pulled together in a form so tangible
like silk
wrapped around my teeth.
E pushed out like air,
the breath,
the wind between the leaves like the breeze through my hair.

The article is the noun's companion,
the most compassionate of all,
the gentle lover, the peaceful singer,
the kiss on the neck that stays long into the night.

And yet I avoid THE, deny my muse
when I begin my lines.
Because, although the gentle giant can soothe me to sleep
he can be childish and unimaginative,
I am unworthy, with my fickle nature,
always wanting something new.