the standard

peanut butter in your beard,
curl of your lip,
and another quick quip
made the trip to school.

your replies to any whim
of a nickname created,
snapped it up like
any word out of poetry,
made the banter fulfilling.

line drawings to color
in a now timeless afternoon,
coupled with puns
and imparted lessons learned
made my childhood.

gentlemanly decorum, flecked
with testoterone
and open sensitivity
derived from your heart
made the standard.

you are the man
of my dreams, the pragmatism
to another melodramatic storm.
you are, evidently,
whatever could be needed
and you give more.