My kind of hero

"My kind of hero."

There I was skimming through poems
to find one fine enough for him, but masculine too
for many were flying amiss, soft in touch, sweet in scope
but missing his strength as they spoke of roses.

How to receive such tender strength and laud it?
And then, before I knew just what the question was
Or how I might could answer
Along came such a fine reply
In a song from my dauntless dancer.

He's a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,
And anointed with joy, to boot
Ever-bold not over-bold
Ever following his Master.

This is my kind of hero,
And how long I've been holding out
He keeps tapping an infinite source
It's making me doubt my doubt.

Anonymous