t a u t

everything about you is taut. 
everything about you is rigid. 
you are strung like the strings on a bow, 
stretched precisely 
and un yielding. 
your lines are straight 
your shoulders form a 
flexed T,
strained against the 
stalwart frame of your 
body. 
and yet.
every so often, 
the softness comes. 
a twinkle in your eye,
a joke that takes us by surprise. 
your hand, 
its usual uniform stance 
is clenched perfectly in line 
with your waist,
reaches for my son's tiny hand,
his tiny fist grabs your finger
and you don't pull away. 
i will wait for those fragments.
you are wound up 
like a clock,
a rubber band pulled to its limits, 
surely there is bend in you too.
you stood predictably  rigid 
as we all said goodbyes, 
your eyes darting like a hawk,
daring anything to step out of line,
i busied myself hugging others
thinking i probably would get a crisp 
nod of the head and that 
should suffice,  
when i felt the softness of your hands,
reach for the softness of my arm 
in the gentlest of caresses,
like a quiet breeze, i almost didn't feel it,
but there you were, 
in all your softness, waiting for 
a brother to embrace his sister,
and my heart filled itself with contentment 
that i was leaving with the softest 
melody only 
your bow could make..