The Highway

He is patient he is kind Has a red temper But he is mine Or is he as my mind Unwinds sipping thoughts Dripping whine Why can’t he be Mr Right And do as I wish when I decide OK maybe I am the problem I want to be giving but I’m demanding Talking to myself now not him How can I ask what I ask on a whim I need to feel secure and considered I hear him say that I am difficult So why am I could it be That he finally sees the real me Yet he seems to wait patiently Despite the parade of suitors Green is his esteem And that is so sexy He knows how to give me space And that’s amazing grace Still I choose me and it’s My way or the highway