Optimism

I’m not used to optimism.
It’s a strange coat to wear
For me.
But I’ve met a woman.
A woman gently complicated
And carefully receptive
To a me.
A me I’m not sure of.
A me that wonders
What I have,
What I am,
That attracts this woman.
I worry I will change
And the attraction
Will fade.
So many days,
So many hours,
To be the same.
But I will try
To be
The person she cares for,
The person she yearns for,
Until I am.