Try A Little Tenderness

A couple of poetry fragments:

"You wanted to hear the part where the poet speaks
of love & passion...Any nakedness, the first time I saw it then,
was still wonder. Even now, as you read it to yourself, it tells 
         you tenderness
is possible, is in the world, though earlier you said otherwise."

"So I am proud only of the days we passed in undivided tenderness
when you sit drawing, or making books, stapled, 
        with messages to the world...
or coloring a man with fire coming out of his beard.
Or we sit at a table, with small tea carefully poured;
so we pass our time together, calm and delighted."

The first is from a poem called "Tenderness," by the remarkable Terrance Hayes. The second from, "For My Son, Noah, Ten Years Old," by Robert Bly.