My Master is the gardner, i am his garden
parched, neglected, weeds on the barren landscape.
Slowly the weeds confronted and yanked out by the roots,
my Master's warmth and care like rays of sunlight offering nourishment.

My Master was able to see me as the woman i could one day be,
while i could only see the empty spaces still.
So, Master planted a few new seeds,
carefully watered the few struggling buds that were left,
with hope and laughter.

Master, touched my numbed spirit first with his friendship,
than his thoughts, his touch, his manhood and finally his wonderful spirit.
I began to blossom into the rose he had seen all along.

I stand before my Master stripped, exposed, inspected, scrutinized,
and laid bare to his intense desire and reverance.
Basking in the unconditional love that pours out of him.

Feeling my own heart open to offer him,
my love and submission,
and my own deeply hearfelt reverance for him,
as my Master and as the man Micheal.