In those last few yearsÂ
he needed me,Â
like stepping stonesÂ
need solid ground,
the sunset a horizon,Â
to mark the fading day.Â
So we foundÂ
a new kind of loveÂ
to replace a loveÂ
never really there -
no arms open wide,Â
no curious conversations,Â
no belly laughs on the floor,Â
he didn’t know how.
His distant but loyal gaze,Â
a crow circling for danger.
Above the hospital bed our new loveÂ
hovered, its chosen graces,
accepted constraints.Â
Between sips of waterÂ
a shared refrain,Â
Thank you for helping me,
I'm lucky to have you.
In the end,
it was a good enough
love for me.
___________________
Originally published in The Orchards Poetry Journal, Summer 2023.